


Reunited

by NorthernLights37



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Co-workers, Dany being an awkward teen as well, F/M, Fluff, Humor, I think I fixed all the accidental “Jon Snow” references - he is a Stark in this I’m just forgetful, Jon being an awkward teen, Minor Angst, Missy being a whole wingwoman, Modern day Westeros, Mutual Pining, Smut Smuts, Summer Camp, and perhaps some marijuana usage, childhood crushes, in case that bothers you, just for fun, references to drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:07:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 34,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24774388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorthernLights37/pseuds/NorthernLights37
Summary: Dany finds herself on the island of Pentos at a company retreat, ready to establish herself as the newest employee and start the next chapter of her life, having landed the job and salary she's been dreaming of.But she never expected to see him there, never thought she'd ever see him again; Her childhood crush, the unrequited love of her teenage life, Jon Stark, in the flesh.Is it a second chance?  Fate?  Or a disaster waiting to happen?
Relationships: Grey Worm/Missandei, Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, Other minor background shit
Comments: 231
Kudos: 795





	1. Blast From the Past

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NoOrdinaryLines](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoOrdinaryLines/gifts).



> I AM NOT DEAD!
> 
> Just thought I'd lead with that.
> 
> Although I have been on something of a social media hiatus, because let's face it, that's a whole ass cesspool of shit just waiting to suck you in, and a time killer to boot. I've had some IRL changes to deal with, that have been taking up a lot of my time, and have been writing quite a bit, though unfortunately for all of us that means I have multiple WIPs sitting around at varying stages of completion.
> 
> I said I'd make myself wait, but let's face it, the tag is looking bleak as fuck these days, so I said hey, let's put up something fun. (STILL LOTS OF AWESOME FIC I JUST MEAN PURELY SILLY TRASH LIKE THIS AND REST ASSURED IT IS FAIRLY PLOTLESS TRASH)
> 
> This is a three-part fic. I am finishing up part two and starting on part three as I post this. Expect part two up in, oh, two days?
> 
> No beta, as per my usual, because I am impatient, and when I finish with something I get itchy fingers. Please ignore my typos, I'm sure at some point I'll get ashamed and fix them. I'm sure you can sort out what I mean :)
> 
> This one is for my Past Self, my sister from another mister, my very first fandom bestie - I know I said late birthday present, it's just later than usual mwa ha ha!
> 
> ETA: lmao yeah I DEFINTELY forgot halfway into this that Jon is a Stark so I THINK I fixed all the accidental Jon Snows but I guess we’ll see since I’m editing on my phone 🤷♀️

  
Dany smoothed her hands down the black dress she’d flown in, regretting the choice of linen even though the island humidity had practically demanded something that could breathe. She tried unsuccessfully to work the creases from her skirt, finally giving up and staring at the entrance to the massive glass double doors before her.

She’d been to Pentos loads of times, both for work and play, but never to this particular resort, one well beyond her normal meager salary.

Tyrion Lannister owned this resort, and Tyrion Lannister was her new boss, and when he’d invited her to attend his annual company retreat, as an impromptu orientation and meet-and-greet with her new coworkers in upper management, she’d been thrilled. Mind-bendingly nervous, but thrilled.

She eyed the immediate area, noting that while the main building was certainly large enough to house guests, the paths, lined with small glass lanterns, led the way to several small cabanas on either side, each with beach access, providing more private, intimate accommodations.

She knew Missy was here already; Grey had been working for Tyrion for years, had even been the one to recommend Dany when a management position came open in the Accounting department. It was double her salary, with excellent benefits, plus, she assumed company get-togethers would be much more survivable with her best friend in attendance.

She swallowed hard, shelving her nerves and wiping her damp palms on her skirt once more, then held her head up, confident, as she made her way to the entrance. From the music that filtered out of the building, it sounded like the opening reception was in full swing, and with a final press of her fingers to her hair, to make sure no strands escaped the elegant twist she’d attempted.

With an exhale, she stepped through the doors, following the sign that indicated she was to proceed to the dining room, her heart thrumming in her throat as she willed herself not to be so tense, to just relax. She’d simply find Missy and Grey, have a few drinks, and she’d been fine.

She set her shoulders, and pushed through the doors, relief coursing through her when, after few moments of looking furtively around, she spied Missy and Grey, standing at a hi-top table festooned with tropically-themed linens. It was tastefully tacky, she realized as she looked around, finding the tone of the welcome party to be some sort of luau. Dany noticed a slim, red-haired woman manning a table to her right, and she wandered over, her suspicions confirmed when she saw a tag on the table with her name etched in neat script.

She peeled off the backing, giving the woman a grin as she smacked the sticky tag onto her dress, just above her breast, the halter style of the top not giving her many other options.

“Welcome,” the woman said smoothly, her eyes flicking to Dany’s chest, “Daenerys.” She pulled out a thick folder, handing it over and gesturing towards it after Dany took it. “Inside you’ll find your daily agenda, along with other optional activities you can participate in, if you choose. Breakfast will be here, every morning, from 8:00 to 10:00. Be sure you keep your employee I.D. on your lanyard at all times, and wear it to all company functions, or you will not be granted admittance.”

Dany nodded smartly, thumbing the folder open to find her own smiling face staring back, attached to said lanyard, and several glossy pages of itinerary. “Thank you,” she paused, eyeing the woman’s tag, affixed to a bright red blazer, “Melisandre. I’ll be sure to remember.”

She walked quickly away on her low heels, praying she wouldn’t trip herself up on the carpet and embarrass herself in a room full of strangers. Another look around and a brief headcount told her there had to be at least 50 people here, all in some variation of business casual, and she breathed a sigh of relief, that her black cocktail dress was a perfectly acceptable choice.

As she neared Missy and Grey, her friend looked up, eyes widening, and she let out a squeal. “You made it!” Missy nearly sprinted over, pressing a drink into Dany’s free hand and leaning close. “Get over here, you’ve gotta meet this guy. He just started, too, in Marketing, one of Grey’s friends, but we didn’t know he got the gig until he showed up!” Her friend was speaking so quickly that Dany was having a hard time processing her words, but she didn’t miss the pointed, knowing look directed her way when Missy spoke again. “Dark, handsome, resting depression face. Just your type!”

“Missy!” Dany let out a scandalized hiss. “These are my *coworkers*, you are not allowed to try to fix me up with anyone on this trip, is that clear?” She always did this, always tried to cure Dany’s perennial single status, even when it was extremely inappropriate.

Missy rolled her eyes, and nodded towards the table. “At least come introduce yourself, then, to your *coworker*.”

Together, they made much slower progress back to the table, and when they were mere feet away, Grey turned, giving Dany a warm smile and a small wave. “D! You made it!”

Then the man beside him turned, his hair dark and curly, long enough to be held back in a little bun, dressed a bit more formally in dark slacks and a white, formal button down that contrasted with Grey’s blue polo and khakis.

He had a nice body, she thought absently, sparing another little peek at his ass before he was completely facing her, but when their eyes met, she forgot how to breathe.

She forgot everything, she forgot about time and space and the universe in general.

She knew this face.

She knew the sharp line of his nose, the slight wrinkle of his dark brows, the deep gray of his eyes, like thunderclouds.

The beard, she mused numbly, was new, but then when she’d last seen him they’d been sixteen, and he’d barely had the start of a fuzzy little line of hair above his upper lip.

And his lips. Gods, she knew his lips on sight alone, though she’d never kissed him.

But from the age of 12, to her very last summer at Riverrun at 16, for five years of camp, she’d mooned over him like a fool.

Standing before her was her one and only childhood crush, her summer obsession, and just as she opened her mouth to speak, not even sure what was going to come out, something dreadful happened.

Her heel snagged on the pile of the carpet, and she tipped forward, managing to stop herself before she fell, but not to catch the clear plastic cup that flew from her hand, painting his very expensive looking black leather shoes in vodka and cranberry.

Dany wished, in that moment, that the earth would swallow her whole, that a tsunami might appear from the seas surrounding them and sweep her away, so she didn’t have to endure something so horrifically awkward as this.

“Oh, God!” She wheezed the words out, horrified, watching dumbly as the liquid began to soak into the carpet at his feet, wincing and fighting the urge to burst into tears, or worse, vomit right then and there.

Which was ironic, because as Jon Stark stood there, shocked, eyes flaring with recognition, she remembered the first time they met.

\------------

She’d been twelve years old, and shy, and awkward, with glasses and braces and skinny arms and legs. She’d stepped off the bus, looking around for a kind face, or an adult, at least, to tell her where she ought to go. Gods, she’d been terrified, surrounded by strangers, plenty of her fellow campers in clusters, clearly already friends.

With her duffel in hand she’d ventured forward, her only comfort the brand new pair of sneakers her mother had bought her, a bribe in retrospect, but she’d been so proud of the neon pink and bright purple shoes, with the lights in the heels, and she’d been taking deep, steadying breaths, when suddenly a boy was pushed into her path.

A gaggle of kids around her age, clearly his friends, looked on as he stood in front of her on the dirt path, just blinking, and pale as a ghost.

“Hi,” she’d said quietly, with a little wave, unsure of what was happening, wondering if this boy was going to tease her or pull her long braids like her brother Viserys liked to do.

The boy before her, with dark, unruly curls and soft gray eyes, had blinked rapidly, and then his lips parted, as though he was going to return the greeting.

Then, his face had twisted, and he doubled over, and puked all over her new shoes.

He’d run off as she started to cry, his friends laughing the whole time.

\------------

Snapping back to the present, she tossed her folder onto the cocktail table, grabbing a handful of napkins and kneeling, trying in vain to dab the liquor from his shoes, only backing away when he knelt, as well, more napkins in each fist.

“I’m so sorry,” she repeated, several times, not daring to look up until she couldn’t stand his silence anymore. “Oh, Gods, I’ll replace them for you, just let me know how much they cost and I’ll cover it.” Even apologizing she felt so stupid, like the years were ticking back, and she was just as bumbling and starry-eyed as the teenager she’d been. Especially when it came to him.

She was SUCH an idiot.

Finally, she allowed her eyes to climb his crouched body, rising slowly to his face to find him grinning at her. She wasn’t sure if she’d seen Jon Stark smile, like, ever, because she was sure she’d remember this. Straight, white teeth, those full lips stretched wide, a small chuckle escaping as he swiped a few times at the mess along with her.

“Is that you, Dany T.?” He shook his head, amazed, his eyes boring into hers. There was something marginally soothing in the fact that he seemed as floored as she did. She wasn’t going to pretend that he’d been harboring some sort of secret crush as well, that they were going to magically fall in love here, at a work function, in front of a fairly respectably-sized crowd. But, she thought, looking between his smile and his eyes, maybe he was happy to see her, at least. “I can’t fucking believe it.”

Dany rolled her eyes, finally giving up the losing battle, clutching her damp napkins and standing, trying to regain some dignity. “It’s me,” she said, with a half-hearted sigh. “No one’s called me that in nearly ten years, though, Jon Stark.”

She didn’t need to look at his nametag. She’d recognize him anywhere.

He straightened as well, glancing down at his shoes with a wry twist of his lips. “Don’t worry about the shoes, Dany. In fact,” he said, eyes dancing, “I’d say this finally makes us even. It only took a decade, too.” They laughed together, this time, familiarity settling over her like a warm blanket, her frazzled nerves finally calming. Gods, just looking at him made her feel like she was back in a rickety canoe, trying not to spill, or huddled with Margaery and Talisa around the campfire, making s’mores, trying to ignore the way Jon Stark looked in his swim trunks.

Now here he was, all grown up and standing in front of her, smiling instead of looking as though he was ill, good enough to eat.

Which were things she should NOT be thinking about a new coworker, so she cleared her throat, noticing Missy and Grey watching them with puzzled looks.

“Oh,” Dany said, sheepishly gesturing between herself and Jon as they both moved back to the table, their arms brushing as Jon reached for his drink. “We know each other.” When Missy raised her brows, tilting her head, clearly expecting a deeper explanation, Dany bit at her lip, glancing again at Jon. “From summer camp,” she clarified, feeling a blush beginning to warm her cheeks.

Jon nodded, sipping at his drink, giving Dany a little wink. “Dany here was just repaying an old debt, I think. Probably been planning it for years, I bet, just waiting ‘til our paths crossed again.”

Dany scoffed, ordering another drink from a passing waiter before she dignified that with an answer. “Not true,” she said emphatically, “I’m just a klutz, occasionally. Which I always have been, I’ll remind you.”

Missy chimed in, still confused, but clearly enjoying whatever was unfolding in front of her. “That’s true.” Her friend leaned on an elbow, looking between the pair. “But what’s the debt she’s repaying?”

Now it was Jon who looked embarrassed, wincing and peeking at Dany from beneath his lashes, which were just as sinfully and unfairly long as they had ever been. “I really regret saying that, now.”

Dany snickered, taking her new drink as it was delivered and taking a slow swallow. “Oh, no, go on Jon Stark. Tell them.” Her shame over her clumsiness was diminishing rapidly, to her surprise, but she wasn’t sure she trusted the warmth spreading through her as she realized, over and over again, that it was THE Jon Stark standing beside her.

Gods, if he knew that she’d spent her entire fourteenth summer scribbling Mrs. Jon Stark on ever page of her camp journal he’d probably be mortified. Which was why he would never, ever know, thankfully.

But she knew, and that old tingling attraction was rearing its ugly head again, as she watched him stumble for an explanation.

“Alright,” he finally sighed, taking another swig of his drink. “But I want to make it clear that this was the most embarrassing moment of my entire childhood.”

Grey chuckled into his beer. “Really? I remember plenty of them in our Army years.”

Jon through Grey a glare, and Dany realized with a start that he was not some new acquaintance, at least not for Grey. Missy seemed unsurprised at this revelation as well, and Dany resolved to grill her friend about it later.

With a heavy exhale, Jon told his version of that fateful day. “So, on my very first day of summer camp, when I was 12, my cousins and I were watching the buses arrive, watching everyone unload and what have you.” He wrinkled his face and glanced at Dany. “And Theon, of course, he was there, too.”

Dany interjected with a groan. “Ugh, I fucking HATED Theon.”

“Yes, well, he’s still an asshole,” Jon said dryly. “Anyway, so I see this bus from Dragonstone arrive, and this girl gets off the bus, with these long silver braids, and—” Jon paused, for a moment, and gave her an odd look, almost shy, the Old Jon she knew coming alive before her eyes. He shrugged, returning his gaze to Missy and Grey. “I guess I’d never seen anyone with hair like that, and I was staring at her, so when she walked by, Theon shoved me right in front of her.”

Dany made a disgusted noise. “He really was the worst. When I was fifteen I gave him a black eye for trying to peek at me in the showers.”

Jon looked over, eyes wide. “That was you?”

Dany nodded, mouth pinched in remembered anger. “Yep,” she said shortly, sipping at her vodka and cranberry.

“Huh.” Jon let out a little grunt of appreciation, then clearly remembered he had a tale to finish. “Okay, so there she is, right in front of me, and she says hello, and just as I open my mouth to speak,” he let out a little moan, covering his face with his hand, “I puked all over her shoes.”

Missy and Grey began to howl with laughter, only quieting when they began attracting attention from the nearby tables. “Oh gods!” Missy’s exclamation was followed by a quick look towards Dany. “What did you do?”

Dany began to giggle, noting the way Jon’s whole face had turned beet red, and how he refused to look at anyone. “I started crying, immediately. They were brand new shoes.”

Jon’s groan was partially muffled by his hand. “And I ran away, immediately.” He finally pulled his head up, thoroughly embarrassed, even after all these years. “I don’t think I managed to speak to you for about a month, after that.”

Dany bit her lip to stifle her laugh. “At least.” She took pity on him, patting his arm fondly with her hand, willing herself to ignore how solid his flesh felt beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. That was not something to notice, it was exactly the opposite of what she should notice, so she focused instead on trying to make him feel better. “But,” she said, gesturing grandly towards her friends with her drink in hand, “it was a very long time ago.”

It seemed to work, as Jon gave her a tiny smile and finally seemed to relax. “Aye,” he said, “and now we’re even. It’s such a relief, really. I’ve had that hanging over my head for so long.”

Their eyes met and clung, and for one wonderful moment she felt like there was no one in the room, she felt sixteen again, mooning after teenage Jon Stark and following him around like a lost puppy and hoping he’d notice her.

They must’ve been at it for too long, because then Missy interjected, thrusting her arm in the air, her own drink sloshing at the motion. “Well, then,” she said, “a toast to being even.”

“Cheers,” Dany said, a laugh escaping as Jon clinked his plastic cup against hers. She realized, as their eyes held each other’s again, that she might be in an awful lot of trouble if she didn’t get a grip on this childish fancy she clearly still had for him, but as he laughed as well, his eyes crinkling in the corners as he took a drink, she convinced herself she’d sort it out later.

In her room.

Far from Jon Stark.

\------------

Dany let out a sigh of relief, backing against the door to the cabana she’d been assigned, feeling like, at last, she could breathe again. She’d stayed behind with Missy and Grey, after Jon had left their little story hour of childhood trauma and claimed he needed to turn in for the night.

Then, the couple had grilled her on what, precisely, had occurred between the pair, and it was with both sadness and relief that Dany had confessed the truth.

Absolutely nothing.

When she was twelve, he’d avoided her like the plague, after that first day, hardly speaking to her the whole summer.

When she was thirteen, he’d been a bit friendlier, but still, he kept his distance. Sometimes she’d catch him looking at her, but he’d look away so quickly she just assumed he was staring off into space, and happened to land his eyes on her.

When she was fourteen, her interest had turned decidedly romantic, in that stupid, silly, first ‘real crush’ sort of way, and she’d stared longingly at him, shamefully, each time he was near. He did speak to her more that summer, but nothing past polite conversation. Jon didn’t really talk that much to anyone, that summer, so she’d tried not to take it personally.

Her fifteenth summer had been brutal, as she’d grown decidedly more…feminine…that school year, and she’d had to sock Theon Greyjoy in the eye for peeping, just like she’d told Jon. What she didn’t admit, what no one else knew, was that summer the boy had confessed that Jon was annoyed by her, thought she was an odd little pest who followed him around like a lost puppy. That had been absolutely gutting, and she’d made sure that the rest of the summer, she never looked his way.

Her sixteenth summer had been trickier. He’d seemed cooler, braver even, Jon Stark had. Sometimes she would tag along with Marg and meet up with the Starks and their friends, and it was always Jon who’d stolen wine coolers and cigarettes and the occasional baggie of weed from the counselor’s cabins. She distinctly recalled sharing a cigarette with him once, and a joint, and though she’d been more than a little intoxicated she remembered him loaning her his hoodie when the wind off the lake had turned chilly.

But then her father had died, and she’d left abruptly, and she’d moved on.

Or, she thought with a sigh, she’d assumed she had, but her initial reaction to seeing him again was giving her more than a little cause for concern. She’d been with other men, had several boyfriends in high school and college, hell, she’d even been engaged before she’d broken that off two years ago.

But no one, not one single man in her entire life, made her feel those stupid, absurd flutters in her stomach just by looking at her.

Not like Jon Stark.

She shook her head briskly, willing herself to snap out of it. Her suitcase, it appeared, had been delivered while she had been at the welcome party, and she longed in that moment for nothing more than a hot bath and to snuggle under the covers of her bed. If she could find it.

Looking around, in the light of the few lamps left switched on, she saw a nicely outfitted kitchenette, one whole wall of the kitchen and adjoined living area made of large glass that no doubt would give her an excellent view of the sea when the sun rose again. Grabbing the handle of the roller bag, she navigated the tastefully appointed living room, decked out in bright, tropical colors, willing herself to just stop stressing and enjoy her time here. Then she stopped, and took another look, to her left, then her right. There were two doors, and the one nearest her was the one that gave her pause, because she definitely heard a distinct thump coming from the next room.

Just housekeeping, she supposed, turning the bed down perhaps, but just to be sure, she called out to whomever was bumping around in the room next door. “Hello?”

Yes. There was definitely someone in there, because there was another thump, like a drawer slamming shut, and then the handle was turning, and the door was opening, and dear gods what was she going to do? Because Jon Stark was standing there with a towel wrapped around his waist, bare-chested, mouth hanging open the moment he saw her standing there.

“What…I….um, Dany?”

Her brow creased in confusion, and she checked her keycard, making sure she hadn’t made another colossally embarrassing mistake. But no, this was the key for Cabana 4, and this was the one she’d been assigned, and he really needed to put something on his body before she started drooling. He’d really filled out, in the past decade, all broad shoulders and muscles and abs now, and there was a traitorous part of her mind that wondered if she could make that towel slip loose through sheer force of will.

She looked around, awkwardly, shifting on her feet, taking a few steps in his direction, waving her keycard at him. “This key is for Cabana 4. Are you in the wrong place, or am I?”

His eyes grew so wide that she wondered if he was going to stroke out, and began to shift back and forth, almost panicked. “Oh, shit.” Then he clamped his mouth shut, and closed his eyes, relaxing a degree as he seemed to understand something she didn’t.

“Over there,” he pointed, at the other mystery door. “There’s two bedrooms,” he said, sounding tired and a little cautious.

Dany let out a huffing breath, realizing that either her wildest dreams or her worst nightmares stood an excellent chance of coming true on this trip. She gazed at the door, nodding, wondering how in the hells she was going to deal with being in this space with him for a whole week.

But she wasn’t going to let him see that. She trained her face into an expression of forced cheerfulness. “How fun!” She sounded full of false optimism, even to her own ears, but she couldn’t stop. “Like summer camp, all over again.”

Jon blinked at her owlishly for a second, then quirked his lips a tiny bit. “I’m just gonna go put some clothes on,” he stammered, and hooked a thumb over his shoulder, to the recesses of his room.

Thank the gods, she thought silently, and nodded. “Right.” She glanced to the other door. “I’m gonna go ahead and turn in, I think, long day and everything.”

The awkwardness of the silence that fell made her skin crawl, and with one last, hesitant smile, she turned on her heel crossed to the other door as quickly as she could, her breathing coming so quickly she thought she might hyperventilate.

“Be cool, Dany. Stop, just stop.” Her hands were shaking so badly that she could hardly fish her phone from her bag, but she managed it, pushing off the closed door of her room and flicking on several lights, staring at her reflection in the mirror above the dressing and starting to pace until finally, blessedly, Missy answered.

“Dany?” Her voice was so quiet that Dany thought, with a rush of guilt, that she and Grey must have already gone to bed. “Is everything alright? Are you locked out of your room?”

“Missy!” The name came out in a snakelike hiss, and Dany was certain she was either on the verge of bursting into tears or laughing hysterically, probably both. “Missy, I have a situation!”

She heard rustling, and after a moment, Missy spoke again, louder this time. “Dany, what is it? Did something happen?”

Dany threw herself onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m sharing my cabana with someone.”

There was another pause, and she could hear the confusion in her friend’s voice. “And? They do that sometimes, saves space, especially if you come alone.”

“I’m sharing my cabana with JON STARK.”

Missy had the absolute gall to squeal in what sounded like delight. “Oh my god, seriously?” Dany frowned as her friend began to giggle devilishly. “What happened? Did you walk in on him naked?”

She sat up, struggling to reach the zip at the back of her dress while she answered. “No, Missy, and stop sounding so happy about this. This is a disaster!” Finally, she caught the zipper and pulled it down, standing and shedding her dress as she began to rant. “I can’t share a cabana with him, Missy, I can’t.”

“Dany,” Missy said with a sigh, “I’m not sure I understand the problem. You’re old friends, right? Trust me, this is way better than getting paired up with that perv Ramsay in Research and Development. Just think of it like summer camp, but the adult version. You know, where maybe you get drunk and hot tub and feel each other up. Or does that happen at teenage summer camp as well?”

Dany unzipped her suitcase, pulling out a tank and shorts to sleep in, and let out a miserable moan. “That’s the problem, Missy. I can’t pretend it’s like summer camp, okay? That’s the last thing I should be doing, with my COWORKER on this retreat for my NEW JOB that I would like to KEEP because the pay is fucking crazy good and I’m sick of my shitty apartment.”

She could almost hear Missy’s mind working through the phone, tugging on the shorts and switching the phone to speaker as she pulled on her shirt. “Dany,” Missy drawled slowly, “what happened at summer camp? With you and Jon?”

Dany looked again at the mirror, seeing the glum expression on her face. “Nothing did.” She snagged the phone, changing it off speaker, pressing it to her ear. “That’s just it.” She exhaled heavily, shoulders slumping. “Gods, this is so embarrassing. I had like, the biggest crush on him back then.”

Missy responded immediately, exceedingly interested in this new revelation. “How big?”

Clucking her tongue against her teeth, she picked up her toiletry bag, walking to the bathroom. “Massive. You know, trying out his last name with mine, maybe I had already decided how many kids we would have and what they would be named. The usual standard teenage stalker sort of thing.”

“Oh. My. God.” Missy let out such a dramatic sigh that Dany knew that she very well should’ve kept this to herself. “Unrequited teenage love. My favorite.”

“Missy, I want you to listen to me, very closely. Nothing happened back then, and nothing is going to happen now, because I am a grown woman and a professional and I’m not going to fuck up this job before it ever really starts.” She pulled her toothbrush free, and toothpaste, setting them beside the sink as she spoke forcefully.

Missy groaned. “Fine, Dany,” she said, disappointed. “Okay, here’s what you do. You keep things friendly, and polite, and professional, and you definitely don’t get drunk or get into a hot tub with him.”

Dany laughed, tension in her gut easing. “I think those are easily avoided.”

She heard Missy sucking in a breath. “Whatever you do,” Missy said with false calmness, “don’t look out on the back deck of the cabana.”

Dany froze, then closed her eyes. “There’s a hot tub out there, isn’t there?” She swept hand across her face, Missy’s answering chuckle confirmation enough. “Okay, I think I’ve had enough for one day. ‘Night Miss.”

“Night, Dany! Good luck!”

She brushed her teeth, forcefully, slightly exasperated at the way Missy seemed to be enjoying her suffering. Then she glared at her reflection, pulling the pins from her hair, shoving the shoulder-length silver mess into a bun.

“Don’t do anything stupid, Dany.”

It was her final warning to herself before she climbed into the obscenely comfortable bed and drifted off to sleep.

\-----------

She awoke with a start, heart pounding in her ears, looking around in a panic before she realized where she was.

As her breathing slowed, she clutched a hand to her chest, trying with all the will she had to force the dream from her mind, in which current day Jon Stark had been shoving her against the wall of a cabin she recalled from Camp Riverrun, kissing her so forcefully that in her dream she’d thought him seconds away from ripping off both their clothes.

Sure, they’d been surrounded by an odd mix of her new coworkers and the faces she remembered from her teenage years, and yes, Davos, the head counselor, had been yelling at them to stop their tomfoolery, but she’d been oddly thrilled by the whole scenario.

What was fucking wrong with her?

“Get a grip, Daenerys. Seriously. Stop it.” The little pep talk seemed to do the trick, as she managed to shame herself into getting up and shoving all those pernicious thoughts away, focusing on smoothing the comforter up and then stretching. Glancing out the window, she could tell it was still early, her phone confirming it was just at 7:00 a.m.

She dug around in her suitcase, pulling out running shorts and a sports bra, finding her trainers and sock and throwing them all on. Maybe she could just run down the beach until she felt like passing out, and then she could purge Jon Stark from her mind.

Honestly, it had been a near decade. There was absolutely no reason for this avalanche of carnal obsessiveness, especially in the current situation, where he wasn’t some fellow teenage camper, but instead a man grown and her coworker.

 _Really grown_ , whispered her traitorous mind, and she smacked her palm against her forehead.

“No! No more!”

She pulled open the door of her room, praying he was still sleeping in his own room, not even allowing herself to begin pondering what he slept in. The common area was deserted, and she breathed a sigh of relief, letting herself out of the sliding glass door and onto the back deck, which led down to the beach.

The calm that had just begun to settle quickly shifted, becoming a raging inferno of lust and aggravation, as she spied Jon Stark sitting on the bottom steps, lacing up his runners, in a tight t-shirt and athletic shorts.

“Shit,” she whispered under her breath, terrified that he’d heard her when his head whipped around.

“Hey,” he said, eyeing her quickly before turning back to his shoes. “Going for a run?”

She let out a sigh, crossing her arms across her chest a little self-consciously, feeling almost bare all of a sudden. “Uh, yeah, I was planning on it. You?”

When he looked at her again, she was surprised to see that flicker of shyness that she’d only briefly glimpsed the night before. But, then, he’d been dripping wet with a towel around his waist and for fuck’s sake she needed to stop thinking about that. “Yeah, um,” he pointed vaguely down the beach, and this time when he looked her up and down, she felt her skin begin to burn with awareness, “you wanna come?”

 _Hell yes_ , her mind and several parts of her body answered, but she stifled them, nodding politely. “Sure.” Was this a mistake? Probably. But it seemed rude to insist on running alone, so she trotted down the steps, grabbing at her ankle and pulling it up behind her, stretching out her muscles a little so she wouldn’t be stiff and slow. “If you think you can keep up.”

That earned her a quick, easy grin, and she took several breaths, relaxing a little. That was the way to handle this, she realized, just keep things nice and light and joke around and she’d stop wanting to strip that shirt off his body and see if his chest and stomach matched the muscled arms on display.

Or she could hope, at least. He stood, sparing her one last glance. “Aye, I think I can.” He shrugged, and laughed under his breath, and she had the awful thought that she could quickly become addicted to the way Jon Stark laughed. “If not, just roll me out into the ocean, I guess.”

Dany nodded, as though she would consider it. “C’mon, then, I wanna beat Missy to breakfast before she steals all the cantaloupe from the fruit display.” She set off down the beach to firmer sand, the slap of Jon’s shoes steady behind her as he tried to catch up.

\------------

Something was up with Jon. Something very, very weird.

The entire day, she’d noticed him acting strangely. Last night, he’d been chatty and easy enough around her, at least in Missy and Grey’s company. And she couldn’t blame him for the awkwardness of their encounter later; She’d certainly been flustered enough by it, and she’d had all her clothes on.

But since their oddly quiet run that morning, there seemed to be two Jon Starks floating around Pentos. The Jon that appeared when he was alone with her seemed almost uncomfortable, and ill at ease. He sent only fleeting glances her way, rarely maintaining eye contact, and save for a few snippets of conversation that were longer than five words, he answered whatever she asked in as few syllables as possible.

When they were around others, though, that Jon faded away and a new Jon appeared, a confident, friendly Jon that joked around and was charming and smiled as though he’d been born to schmooze.

She pulled Missy aside just before dinner, tugging her into a quiet corner of the hotel lounge. She had one suspicion, one that made her want to hide in her room the rest of her stay rather than face Jon Stark again, one that made her consumed with insufferable teenage-flavored embarrassment.

“Missy! Did you say something to Grey?” It was all she could think, that Missy had let slip Dany’s age-old crush on Jon Stark, and Grey had mentioned it to Jon, and now Jon *KNEW* and that’s why he acted so unbearably uncomfortable around her whenever they were alone. Gods, it really was summer camp all over again.

“What?” Missy’s eyes darted around, as they whispered to each other. “You mean about Jon? Of course not!”

Dany’s hands clenched at her side in irritated frustration. “Well, something’s happened. He’s acting really, really weird, when we’re alone. Like, watch, at dinner, he’ll be totally fine, but I promise you, when we get back to that cabana, and we’re alone, he’ll act like he can barely stand to look at me.”

Missy snorted, taking a closer look at the bright green summer dress Dany had chosen for dinner, one that was cut low across the chest, with thin straps, flaring out into a swingy, A-line skirt. “Then he’s lost his mind. You look crazy cute in that, by the way, is that new?”

“Thanks,” Dany said, grudgingly accepting the complement, still puzzled. “Yes, it’s new.” She felt her teeth grinding together. “I’m telling you, it’s like he knows.”

Missy smoothed her hand down Dany’s hair, flicking her fingers where the strands brushed against Dany’s shoulders. “Okay, hear me out, but maybe you’re imagining it? Like, maybe you’re paranoid that he might know so your mind is trying to go all worst-case scenario on you?”

Dany scuffed a sandaled foot against the marble tiled floor. “Maybe,” she allowed.

Her friend clucked her tongue before pursing her lips and crossing her arms, levelling Dany with a knowing look. “Has it occurred to you, at all, that maybe, just maybe, he’s having the same problem you are?”

Eyes narrowing, she stared right back, meeting Missy’s amber eyes. “Paranoia?”

“Dany.” Stepping up beside her, Missy wrapped an arm around her shoulder, leaning close to whisper. “No. What I mean is, what if he’s all ‘weird’ when you’re alone because he had a thing for you, too?”

If only that had been the case. But Dany knew the truth, could still hear Theon Greyjoy’s shitty little dig as he’d taunted her about her apparent and all too obvious crush on Jon Stark, her fifteenth summer.

_‘He thinks it’s pathetic, the way you follow him around, Dany T. Everyone knows that.’_

No. She shook her head, clearing it, willing that little voice away. If Jon had a problem, whatever it was, it was his problem, not hers. She was going to have fun, dammit, and get to know her new co-workers, and he could act just as sulky as he wanted, and she just wouldn’t care.

Right. She just wouldn’t care. Tipping her chin up, she gave Missy a wink, and told herself the simplest course of action was just to forget about Jon Stark. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. Let’s get tipsy.”

They pushed into the ballroom together, and with each step Dany tried to leave the past behind, and move forward to the future.

\----------

The past, she was realizing, wasn’t going to fucking leave her alone.

Dinner had quickly devolved into a drunken melee, the open bar enticing more than a few of her newly-met coworkers to engage in some rather hedonistic displays on the dance floor, and by the time Missy and Grey had disappeared into a corner, grinding against each other, Dany had decided she’d had enough.

The DJ was still going, churning out late 90’s hit after hit, each one progressively throwing her further back into memories of hot summer nights and s’mores and, of course, Jon Stark.

And he had disappeared altogether. She didn’t see Melisandre, either, the red-haired woman from the welcome table who’d been making *very* clear overtures towards Jon earlier in the evening, and her stomach twisted sickly at the thought that maybe he’d taken her back to the cabana.

She snatched a few beers from the bartender who was set up nearest her, muttering a ‘Thanks’ and holding the cold necks of the bottles between her fingers as she found her way to the balcony. The cool, salty breeze rolling in from the sea, tangy with salt, soothed her, and she let out a deep, cleansing breath as the doors closed behind her, sealing away the noise, leaving her with a little slice of peace.

“Hey.”

She opened her eyes slowly, stomach twisting again, but this time in surprise, and something else, something that made her cheeks burn, as she spied Jon Stark standing at the balcony’s edge, his back to the railing, cigarette between two fingers. His gaze travelled down her slowly, eyes dark, but he didn’t speak again until he spied the beers still clenched in her hand.

“Can you spare one of those? I’m afraid to go back in,” he said dryly, lips twitching as his eyes flicked back to meet hers, “Might see more than I want to, you know?”

Dany huffed out a laugh, and walked over, offering him a beer and then opening her own, setting the spare down on a rattan table nearby. “There’s a few anatomy lessons going on, I think. I tried not to look too closely. I can absolutely go the rest of my life without knowing what Tyrion’s bare ass looks like.” She wished she could say the same held true now, but he was impossible not to look at, Jon Stark. Gods, it ought to be illegal to be so handsome. He was slightly rumpled, his tie undone and hanging loose around his collar, the top two buttons of his white dress shirt undone and hanging open, revealing the base of his neck to her, a spot she would truly love to taste.

Well, she’d like to taste all of him, but she’d start there.

He took a drag of his cigarette, nodding in thanks for the beer, and then, to her surprise, pulled it from his lips and offered it to her.

She remembered this, of course she did. Sneaking down to the lakeshore at night, when she was sixteen doing just this, Jon Stark looking all dark and brooding as he stared out at the black surface of the water while everyone around him chattered and laughed.

Dany took what he offered, taking a small drag, grimacing as she remembered, too, the bitter taste of the smoke as it filled her lungs. She exhaled, and took a deep swallow of her beer, handing the smoke back to Jon.

“Just like old times, huh?”

Her brows raised in surprised at his assessment, rising further at the small, furtive smile he gave her as he took another sip of his beer. She’d always just assumed she was a nuisance to him, back then. But yes, it was very much like it had been all those years ago. She remembered how the younger version of herself had choked down the smoke, more consumed with the thought that her lips were touching something *his* lips had, and it was almost like they were kissing. Almost.

Dany nodded, a small, jerky dip of her chin, closing the distance between them and boldly running her hand along the black fabric of his suit coat, watching his own eyes widen as he tracked the movement of her slim hand down his chest. With a triumphant cry, she found what she was looking for, fingers slipping between his shirt and the silky lining of his jacket to pull the pack of cigarettes from the inner pocket. “That depends. Did you steal these from Littlefinger?”

She danced away as he tried to snatch the pack back, laughing as he made a face at her. “Maybe I did,” he said, chuckling as well when he finally succeeded. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Instead of responding, she slipped to his side, leaning against the railing as he did, sneaking a glance at him from the corner of her eyes as she nursed her beer. The moon was full and fat and silver, gilding them both in light, and that girl who’d been so impossibly in love with him, all those years ago, was still trapped inside her, shivering a little when their eyes locked again.

“I’m sorry,” Jon finally rasped out, stubbing out his cigarette and walking away to toss it into the ashtray by the door. When he saw the way she frowned at him slightly, he sighed, resuming his post beside her. “About your dad.”

It was the last thing she’d expected to hear. She couldn’t believe he even remembered. “I—”

“You left so fast, you know? And by the time we all found out what happened, you were long gone. But I wanted to tell you that, then. So I figured, I might as well, now.” Words were rushing out of him quickly, now, a nervous air falling over him as he gripped his beer so hard his knuckles whitened. “My mom died when I was ten. Cancer.” She hadn’t known that, not so specifically. She knew Jon lived with his cousins, that had been common enough knowledge, but she hadn’t ever really known why. “You know what’s weird?”

Dany swallowed thickly, rendered speechless, thinking he’d said more in five minutes, tonight, than an entire summer. It broke her heart, a little bit, the way his eyes were so sad, so *knowing*, all of a sudden. She found her voice, finally, though it was little more than a pained whisper. “What?”

His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek. “After you left, all I could think was, I wished I could have told you that, because I remembered, I still remember, exactly how that feels. When a parent dies, it’s just,” he paused, eyes clashing with hers, “It’s just the fucking worst.”

“Yeah.” Her breath escaped her, that familiar ache rising, that one that had consumed her when she’d arrived home, back at Dragonstone, to find her father dying, her mother falling to pieces, her brothers stern and stone-faced. “It was the fucking worst.”

They both fell quiet, until she heard a low laugh begin to rumble in Jon’s chest. She glanced up, to find him wincing, fumbling for another smoke as he shook his head. “I’m such a fucking bummer. Sorry. Again.”

He was, in this moment, as he’d always been; Sad, beautiful Jon Stark. She held out a hand in response, taking the cigarette he pulled free, waiting for him to light hers then his own. It was like riding a bike, she thought, this one going down easier than the last, and she blew a plume of smoke into the air as she held his gaze.

“It’s okay.” She felt odd, giddy and nervous, and maybe a little tipsy, which explained the newfound boldness that seemed to have taken hold of her. “I’m—” She faltered for a moment, willing herself not to be foolish, to stay a little aloof, and finally she fumbled upon the right words. “I’m really glad I saw you again, Jon. I always wondered what happened to you.”

She sucked in a breath at the admission, wondering if she’d let on more than she wanted, but he just seemed surprised, more than a little taken aback. “Really?” He seemed so shocked at the notion that she wondered if he’d always been like this, a little unsure, a little self-deprecating. He’d always seemed so cool, untouchable even, back then. But maybe, she thought to herself, as he frowned a little, he’d been as insecure as she was. “I find that hard to believe.”

Dany moved in closer, nudging as his shoulder with hers, taking another drag. “Why?”

Jon snickered, not meeting her eyes now, his focus on the label of his beer. “I dunno,” he shrugged, “maybe I figured you always hated my guts after I puked on your shoes.” His blunt thumb nail began to scrape at the corner of the label, but she saw him tense, heard something bitter enter his voice though he still didn’t look at her. “Or,” he said slowly, “It might be because Theon Greyjoy told me he was paying you $20 bucks to follow me around that summer we were 15.” Then, he did look up, dark eyes pinning her. “Then when you stopped he said he quit paying you, so—” Jon stopped talking abruptly, shrugging.

“No,” Dany said firmly, wishing Theon Greyjoy was there, in that moment, so she could punch him again. “He wasn’t.” There was a part of her, stoked on by the beer and the closeness to Jon, and the very real truth that seemed to be unfolding that maybe, just maybe, Missy had been right after all, about what was going on with Jon. “I stopped following you around because Theon told *me* how pathetic you thought I was.”

Jon’s eyes widened cartoonishly, and shook his head, mouth opening and closing for a moment in the wake of her words. “No, that’s not,I-” he spluttered, “I didn’t say that!” He grimaced and finished off his beer, and she did the same, not trusting herself to contain all the other things she wanted to say, now that she knew this.

Things not to say, ever: What sort of wedding dress her younger self had envisioned, for when they got married. The names of their imaginary children. What sort of house she had always pictured living in with him.

Those things, she had a hunch, would be a bit too much for tonight. Or probably ever.

Instead, she chuckled, and grabbed their empties. “I think we can both agree that Theon Greyjoy is a fucking dick.”

That earned her a full laugh, and Jon seemed inclined to follow her without another word, as she budged open the doors and made a beeline through the ballroom, studiously ignoring anything but what was immediately in front of her.

As soon as she burst through the exit, she spun, to find Jon staring down at her through squinted eyes. He shuddered, looking horrified, as they tossed their empty bottles into the nearest receptacle. “I tried not to look,” he said in a rush, “I really did, but still. There was Tyrion, and a table, and his assistant.” He pressed his lips into a tight, white line. “So many things I didn’t need to know about my boss, honestly.”

Dany kissed her teeth. “Yikes.” Blowing out a breath, she took a chance, and linked her arm loosely through his. “Let’s get out of her, before we traumatize ourselves any further.”

Jon looked down, where her bare arm brushed against his suit jacket, their elbows joined, and smiled. “Good idea.” And maybe it was her imagination, or just that reawakened want that had been dormant for years, but it seemed to her that he pulled her a little closer to his side as they left the main building and took the meandering path back to their cabana.

They didn’t say much, the silence between them no longer awkward, occasional glances and shy smiles the only thing they exchanged until they were safely tucked away inside their suite. Reluctantly, Dany unwound their arms, looking about a little nervously now that they were well and truly alone. Jon, for his part, shoved his hands in his pants pockets, looking down at his feet for a minute until he finally broke the quiet.

“Hey, Dany?”

She waited, expectantly, watching as he shuffled his feet and then cleared his throat.

“Sorry if I’ve been acting weird around you. It’s funny, you know. I was really shy when I was a kid, quiet, you know, I’m sure you remember.”

Dany grinned. “Yeah, that rings a bell.”

“I thought I had outgrown all that. But it’s just, I don’t know, really.” He bit at his sinfully full lower lip and met her eyes. “You make me nervous.” He tore his eyes away the moment the words were free, and she knew that there were probably lots of ways for her to take that. She could draw terrible conclusions, perhaps, but she didn’t need to. She knew exactly how he felt.

So she stepped up, invading his space, his heat, his smell, everything about his flooding her senses as she leaned up and wrapped her arms around his neck, tucking her face against his throat. She hugged him, tightly, not daring to do more just now, because she could very quickly see the path towards ripping every stitch of clothes from him and finally discovering if the years of wondering what it would be like to have him would live up to her fantasies.

This didn’t seem like the time for that. Not yet. She wasn’t sure why, perhaps this new peace between them, this understanding, feeling a little fragile, something she wanted to think on before anything else happened.

They *did* still have to work together after all.

She felt his hands join together behind her back, at the base of her spine, and smiled against the fabric of his dress shirt, before she slowly withdrew.

“Good night, Jon,” she whispered, giving him one last, tiny grin before she found her way to her room, feeling like she was floating on a cloud, leaning against the door once it was closed and giggling to herself.

Tonight, if she dreamed about him, she wouldn’t feel guilty at all.


	2. Unresolved Sexual Tension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The convention continues, and Dany and Jon discover some long-buried truths along the way, as they become reacquainted. The sexual tension rises! MWA HA HA

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part two of three - hope you enjoy! The smut parade kicks off in our final chapter, but hopefully you'll enjoy this chapter, a lead-up to the main event, as it were. This really is not much more than something intended to be silly and fun, but I should disclose (and have added in the tags) that this chapter does involve some light drug use (it's just weeeeed) so if that bothers you then my condolences and peace out. No hard feelings.
> 
> Have an excellent weekend! Stay safe and stay sane!

  
The next morning, things were much more relaxed. The tension that had existed prior to their little talk last night seemed to have dissipated, her first exchange with Jon friendly and easy, the two of them agreeing to head to breakfast together before the day’s events were in full swing.

They shared a table in one of the small dining rooms, snickering, their heads bowed together as they took in how many of their fellow convention-goers looked like death warmed over. Hangovers had not been kind to most of them, judging by the bevy of sunglasses worn indoors and the faint green tint to their skin.

Dany eyed her itinerary, finding she had a Best Accounting Practices seminar set for 10:00 a.m., followed by a working lunch with the rest of her department, and a required HR seminar in the afternoon. She wrinkled her nose, shoving it at Jon so he could see for himself why her face had wrinkled. “Boring,” she grumped, before taking a big bite of her muffin.

Jon was the newest management member of the Marketing team, something she’d learned on the first night and apparently forgotten about until he offered his own schedule. She supposed she could be forgiven for forgetting everything that had occurred before she’d spied him fresh from the shower, couldn’t she? She saw his equally boring slate of events, a Digital Media group session that would last most of the day for him, until the HR seminar at least.

He grunted, finishing off his cold cereal and reaching for the fresh fruit he’d scooped into a bowl at the buffet. “At least there’s the pool party later.” His eyes darted around before he looked back at her, smirking. “That’s what they all need, more drinking. And swimming. And,” his eyes checked back to the itinerary, “barbecue.”

Dany laughed under her breath, sneaking a hand over and spearing a piece of honeydew from his bowl before her could smack her hand away. “I have to say, I didn’t think this group would be such hardcore partiers. They seemed kinda stuffy when I interviewed.”

“Good thing they only have this once a year, then.” She followed his gaze to where Stannis Baratheon sat, clearly forcing food into his mouth, Melisandre next to him with her head propped up in a hand, looking ill herself as she watched him eat. “I don’t know if their hearts can take all this excitement.”

Dany pretended to gasp. “How ageist of you.” She giggled and stole another piece of melon. “You deserve to have your fruit stolen, for that.”

He laughed, even while trying to shield what remained in his bowl with his hand. “Get your own, thief!”

Dany was still chuckling when she checked her watch, finding she only had twenty minutes ‘til her first session, and standing quickly. “Shit, I gotta go.” Her lips twisted into a smile when she saw how his face fell, just a bit, before he caught himself. “I’ll see you at the HR Seminar, which you sorely need.”

“Oh, good, maybe they’ll discuss stealing from your coworkers, a topic *you* clearly need to review. See you there.”

With a wave over her shoulder, she left, determined she would focus on the seminar and not the way Jon Stark’s t-shirt hugged his biceps. Maybe she did need that HR seminar, after all.

\-----------

Jon arrived just before the presentation began, the room half-full of people who still looked to be nursing headaches and tender stomachs from last night.

Dany was fairly certain that she’d never seen anyone as absolutely bland and overwhelmingly dull as the slim man who stood at the center of the small conference room, powering up his laptop to begin what would surely be a snooze fest of a power point show, and so she was relieved to see Jon rush breathlessly in the room exactly two minutes before 2:00 p.m.

Her stomach gave a little flutter when he twisted his head around almost desperately, looking for something, his eyes lighting up when he found her and headed straight for the empty seat next to her.

“Hey,” he said, sounding rather relieved, his smile growing as she moved her belongings out of the way. She’d placed them just so, hoping to reserve the space next to her for him in case the room was full, but of the six tables that had been set up, only three were occupied. It had been unnecessary, she supposed, but worth it for the grin he gave her as he placed a slim black laptop bag on the table and began to remove the machine, no doubt to take notes. “You saved me a seat.”

Dany nodded quickly, trying not to feel too excited by how much he seemed to appreciate the gesture. Whatever he’d meant last night, about her making him nervous, seemed to have settled. But she didn’t want to misinterpret this newfound friendliness. Not yet. “Well, I figured you wouldn’t want to sit by Kevan.” Tyrion’s cousin, who worked in R&D, was a close talker, with the worst breath Dany had ever encountered up close.

Apparently Jon was of the same opinion, with the flash of disgust that crossed his face. “You’re a lifesaver. That man’s breath could peel wallpaper, I swear.” They’d dropped their voices to whispers, but with the cross look they got from the man up front, Dany realized the presentation was about to begin.

“Time to behave,” she breathed, jerking her chin towards the man who introduced himself to the room at large as Howland Reed, head of HR, and began to flick through slides. “Although if memory serves, you might not be capable of that. Thankfully there doesn’t seem to be anything handy for you to steal, Sticky Fingers.”

“I was going through a phase, Dany T.” Jon made a grumpy face, but made a motion across his mouth as though he were zipping his lips, and at first, they both paid close attention, as Mr. Reed began a monotonous explanation of the various types of theft that could be committed on company time. By the time he’d made it through office supplies, Dany thought she was going to nod off, until a gentle touch rested on her elbow.

Jon had inched closer, full lips parted as he looked at her with desperate gray eyes. “Please kill me. Now. This is torture.”

She fought a giggle, keeping her eyes trained ahead, mumbling a response though her lips barely moved. “How? Shall I bludgeon you to death with your laptop?”

His left hand raised slightly, wiggling a yellow pencil between two long, strong fingers. “Just shove this through my temple. I can’t take it anymore. This speech actually makes me WANT to steal office supplies.”

“I thought your life of juvenile theft was just a *phase*.” Dany snorted, laying her hand on top of his, not even giving it a second thought until her palm was flush against the top of his hand, her chest seizing for a moment at how oddly intimate the gesture seemed as she gently pried the pencil from his grip. Almost lazily, her eyes travelled up his arm, to his shoulder, finding his gaze trained hotly on her for several moments before he let it drop to her fingers as they brushed against his. “You obviously shouldn’t be trusted with sharp objects right now,” she breathed out, the ghost of a smile crossing her lips as he watched her.

“Probably for the best,” he replied, sounding strangely breathless himself as he slowly pulled his hand away, forcing himself, it looked to her, to return his gaze to the boring speaker at the head of the room and pretending to type. “How much longer, you think, ‘til they spring us?”

Howland Reed chose that moment to begin a new series of slides, titled ‘Employee Fraternization’, and Dany felt herself become keenly interested all of a sudden, unsure as to when her mantra of NOT doing Jon Stark had shifted into making sure it was technically okay to do Jon Stark, but she leaned forward all the same, focusing closely on every word Mr. Reed spoke.

Jon shifted at her side, and she peeked from the corner of her eye to find him suddenly staring at Howland Reed as though the man was about to impart the secrets of the universe.

“Now, Lannister Inc. would like to remind you that, as upper management, it is discouraged to initiate romantic relationships with those who work beneath you, structurally speaking.” The speaker paused to take a sip of water.

Dany ground her teeth together, waiting. Technically, Jon was management, just as she was, and they worked in separate departments, so hypothetically, if they wanted to get really naked on this trip, in the cabana they conveniently shared, that would be no big deal, right?

“Lannister Inc. would ALSO liked to inform you that should you find yourself,” he paused, raising his fingers to make air quotes, “involved in some sort of romantic entanglement, you are required to disclose such relationship to Human Resources at your earliest convenience, at which time both parties must sign the appropriate paperwork removing liability from Lannister, Inc. should such relationship turn south.”

Don’t look, Dany urged herself. Do not look at Jon Stark right now. Do not do it, Daenerys. Don’t.

She caved, and peeked, finding him regarding her with a side-long look of his own, giving her a quick, strange smile before returning his focus to Howland Reed.

Dany didn’t take in much of what followed, her mind now preoccupied with the notion that maybe, one day, she might have to get her hands on one of those love contracts. As always, she was putting the cart ahead of the horse, but as they filed out of the room and she got another peek at the way Jon Stark’s slacks hugged the shape of his undeniably firm ass, she thought it never hurt to be prepared.

\-----------

Dany looked at the suits laid out on her bed, wondering why it seemed like choosing a damn swimsuit had suddenly become the most pressing decision of her life.

She’d brought three: one perfectly tasteful one piece, in bright green, probably her best bet for a work gathering, though, she could fully admit, completely boring.

Next to that lay a bright blue halter bikini, one that still covered a decent amount of skin, but still showed a decent amount of cleavage, if she were so inclined.

The final option, the most scandalous, the one her mind screamed NO! on, but her heart and a few other select parts were urging her to wear, was a skimpy red bikini, one she’d picked up in Volantis a year ago, one that would show entirely TOO MUCH SKIN for a work party and that she SHOULD NOT WEAR.

She sighed, twirling a loose silver curl from the high ponytail she’d slapped her hair in when she’d returned to the cabana and set about getting ready, and pulled her phone out.

Take a quick picture, she texted it to Missandei, needing another opinion. Missandei would talk her down. Missandei had been going to these functions with Grey for three years. Missandei would not lead her astray.

Her phone rang within seconds, and she accepted the call, phone to her ear as she continued to agonize over which suit to wear.

“Dany,” Missy drawled, “Why are you sending me pics of swim wear?”

Dany sighed, blowing out a loud breath. “Help me decide which one to wear. Be my swimsuit Yoda.”

Missy hummed under her breath. “What are we going for here? I mean, obviously the one piece if the goal is ‘Hey, everyone, welcome to little Timmy’s 5th birthday party!’, but I’m guessing that’s not the vibe you want.” A beat passed, then she spoke again, a little more deviously, a bit more quietly. “Are we trying to *impress* someone, Daenerys? Hmmmm?”

She giggled in spite of herself, though she tried to sound as innocent as she could. “What? Of course not. He’s already seen me in a swimsuit, anyway.” She paused, eyes darting between the red suit and the blue suit. “I should wear the blue one, right?”

“I mean, probably.” Missy let out a light laugh, then said a few mumbled words that Dany couldn’t quite make out, most likely to Grey, she thought. “Save the red one for the hot tub, you know, when things are a little more *private*.”

Dany felt a brow raise. “Hang on, I thought you said I should skip the hot tub altogether.”

Missy just hummed merrily. “I changed my mind. This is clearly destined to happen. It’s fate, Dany. Stop fighting it. Give in.” Her friend’s teasing tone made it clear she was enjoying this situation far too much, but a traitorous part of Dany’s mind agreed wholeheartedly, told her that this was a chance, at least.

The rest of her mind yelled incessantly that becoming involved with a coworker was a terrible idea, even if he had gorgeous eyes and the tightest ass she’d ever seen. She hadn’t even technically started yet, had no idea what her office looked like, had sent a total of zero emails from the company’s server.

“Okay,” she finally responded, fingers catching on the top of the blue suit. “I’m going to hang up now, before you decide I need to go ahead and get sized for wedding rings. I’ll see you at the pool, Miss.”

The only response was Missy’s ringing laugh as she disconnected the call.

\---------

Jon was nowhere to be found when she finally emerged from her room, a note on the hotel stationary telling her he’d been drafted into helping a few of the others bring up all the drinks to the pool, along with, as he put it, ‘several million bags of ice’, and that he’d see her there.

Her stomach was doing flips, and she knew she was being ridiculous, but it seemed unavoidable where Jon Stark was concerned. Just the thought of him and she felt like a teenager again, nervous and excited and desperate for a glimpse of him, all the while thinking he might be the last person she wanted to see, at least until she’d gotten a grip on herself.

Enough, she told herself.

She straightened her shoulders, cinched the boldly-pattered floral sarong tied at her waist just a bit tighter, slipped on a pair of flip flops, and marched herself down the walk and around the side of the main hotel, to where the enormous stone-surrounded pool waited.

It was already swarming with people, speakers cleverly disguised in the tropical plants scattered about thumping away, the sounds of laughter and shouts that rose up every few seconds suggesting some of the partygoers were already headed into a repeat of the night before.

“Dany!” Missy’s high-pitched squeal pierced the fog of music and chatter, and she looked to her left to find her friend already lounging in the afternoon sun, true to her word in her yellow two-piece, beaming and adjusting her sunglasses as she waved Dany over with her other hand. “C’mon!”

A quick inspection showed neither Grey nor Jon in sight, but Missy was pressing a cocktail into her hand, a mojito from the look and, with a quick sip, the taste as well. Dany grabbed for a hotel towel, spreading it on the reclining lounger next to her friends and taking in the partygoers with a bemused smile. “Looks like everyone started without me. Where’s Grey?”

She savored the sweet drink as she relaxed back into her lounger, slipping out of her wrap and pulling her sunglasses from the tote she’d brought. She slid the shades on then rummaged for sunscreen, waiting dutifully for Missy to finish off her margarita before she answered.

“Mmmmm.” Missy’s head thumped back against the seatback, and she waved a hand vaguely in the air, towards the vicinity of the large cooking station that was being erected, just next to a stand clearly meant to distribute drinks once it was stocked. “He and Jon were helping to finish off the party prep over there.” Quickly, her friend sucked in a breath, as if she’d just realized something, and she whipped off her sunglasses, smiling wickedly at Dany and she leaned sideways. “By the way,” she muttered, “That reminds me. Dany, have you seen that man without his shirt on?” Missy growled, waggling her eyebrows, making Dany giggle and slid her own sunglasses down her nose. “Hot stuff, babe. Smokin’ hot.”

“Missy!” Dany gave another quick check of the vicinity, hissing her friend’s name even as she chortled. “You are NOT allowed to embarrass me. Got it?” Dany sat back up, shaking her head and squirting some lotion into her hands, unwilling to let herself burn under the hot Pentoshi sun. She began to apply it, even as Missy continued on, completely unfazed by Dany’s half-hearted scolding.

“Was he that hot as a teenager? Because if he was,” Missy let out a whistle between her teeth, “I mean, I get it. I would have been thirsting for him, too.”

Dany’s cheeks began to heat as she remembered the way he’d looked, skin still damp from his shower, droplets falling from his hair to course down his chest and into the towel he’d held clutched in a tight grip. Missy wasn’t exactly wrong, regarding Jon’s severe case of the hotsies, but she would absolutely die if she gave in on the need to gossip about it publicly only to have him wander up behind her as she admitted she wanted to eat every meal off those abs.

She would rather drown herself in the pool that allow for even the chance that might occur, but she did compromise with a sidelong look as she rubbed sun lotion on her arms and chest.

“Good lord, Missy, how many drinks have you had?” Missy said nothing, just giggled, clearly intent on needling her now that she was clearly buzzed. “He was really, really cute,” she finally whispered, as Missy propped herself up on an elbow and cupped a hand to her ear. “But he’s definitely, ah…,” she trailed off, searching for the least compromising way to describe her childhood crush’s adult development, “*filled out*, I think.”

They’d all been pretty scrawny, but as best she could remember, Robb had hit a growth spurt first, then Theon, when they were fourteen. Then, the following summer, Jon had shown up four inches taller and the kind of muscle definition in his chest and arms that had made Dany think he must work out in his garage every night, flexing in front of the mirror the way Viserys always had, listening to rage metal or maybe, in Jon’s case, Joy Division.

“I’m just saying,” Missy drawled, waving at the roving attendees who were ferrying fresh drinks from the bar inside until the party was officially kicked off, ordering drinks for them both before she finished her thought. “If I was single, Dany, I’d be jumping those bones QUICK.”

Amber eyes locked onto hers, Missy pinning her with a knowing stare. “Look,” Dany said, raising her hands slightly in defeat, “I don’t really even know him anymore, Miss, okay?” She crossed her arms across her chest, giving the other woman a half-hearted glare. “And you’re enjoying this WAYYY too much, by the way. Maybe slow up on the tequila, horn dog.”

“Then GET to know him,” Missy hissed in response, grinning madly. “And get in those pants. You NEED this, do you hear me?” She placed her fingers against Dany’s mouth when she made to offer another weak argument. “And don’t tell me it isn’t allowed because you work together, because I know it is.” She pulled her hand away, only to point at the raucous crowd lining the perimeter of the pool, scattered near the tumbled stone water fall and spread along high-top cocktail tables. “They do it ALL THE TIME.”

Dany finished off her first drink just in time for the second to arrive, thanking the attendant and tossing the sunscreen to her friend, who caught it nimbly. “If I agree, will you get my back?” Dany checked herself, and corrected before her tipsy friend could misinterpret. “I am only agreeing to the ‘getting to know him’ part, not the ‘jumping his bones’ or ‘getting in his pants’ part.”

Missy just giggled. “Well, one thing leads to another. I’m just looking out for your best interests, you know. It wouldn’t kill you to have a little fun.” Dany shuffled forward on her lounger as Missy moved to perch behind her, the click of the cap followed by Missy’s palms smoothing the lotion across her shoulders and down her spine. She pulled her long curls over shoulder, baring her back completely.

She huffed out a nervous little breath as she saw Grey and Jon approaching, her eyes making a quick journey down the body she’d glimpsed her first night there, a Jon who was no longer the gangly, aloof teen at all, now all muscles and smooth flesh and Gods help her, even his calves were nice? Who had definition like that? What kind of freakish calf workouts was he doing?

Dany eyed her half empty mojito and sighed, knowing that if she had a few more of these she’d probably do something stupid like ask exactly that kind of question.

Jon looked stoic as always, speaking quietly to Grey, until his eyes caught hers.

It wasn’t like she’d never seen him smile before. He had smiled more in the past few days that he had over their entire summer camp tenure together, but still, it was the shyness that seemed to tinge it, the nervous air as he seemed to slow in his approach, that made her heart do a silly little flip.

“Hey, Dany,” Jon said, giving an odd little wave as he plunked down on the lounger next to hers, on her left, Grey skirting around the women to claim the one next to Missy’s right. “Missy.”

“Jon,” Missy intoned, trying to sound as serious as Jon had. She clapped her hands down on Dany’s shoulders, giving Dany a playful shake as she leaned forward, waiting until Jon had cracked open a beer to begin her campaign of terror. “So, I have to ask.” Dany felt her friend’s cheek come to rest atop her head. “What was this one like as a teenager? I need embarrassing stories, stat!”

Dany shuddered, twisting to give Missy as warning a glare as she could manage while simultaneously laughing. “Absolutely not!” She finished off her drink, then straightened and situated herself on her deck chair, staring at Jon with serious determination. “Don’t listen to her Jon, she just wants ammo to tease me about later.”

Jon’s eyes danced, his lips quirking in an amused smile as he glanced between Dany and Missy, in turn. “Sorry to say, I don’t remember anything particularly *embarrassing*.” He paused, allowing Missy’s disappointed groan to overtake the quiet. “But,” he continued, as Dany stiffened, “I will tell you about the time Dany stole a counselor’s car.”

Dany managed to tear her eyes away from his shirtless chest to gasp. “I can’t believe you remember that!” She bit her lip, turning to find Missy’s mouth falling open, even Grey looking on with a bit of surprise. “What? I did bad things, occasionally. I was going through a phase,” she joked, twisting back to wink at Jon. “We all were, right, Jon?”

“Exactly,” Jon Stark confirmed, grinning. “And technically I think Margaery helped, but the way I heard it was that you were the one who hot-wired it.” He’d heard correctly, she thought. And clearly Margaery had possessed a much bigger mouth back then than Dany had been aware of, if she’d spilled that much.

She chuckled and nodded, remembering. “Well,” she drawled, “Margaery was the one with the learner’s permit, so she had to drive. I just, you know, helped get things going, that’s all.” She shrugged, as though that were the end of the story, but the way Jon’s grin grew in size she realized he obviously knew the worst part of it.

“You’re leaving something out, aren’t you, Dany?” He raised his brows knowingly, taking a swig of his beer, his eyes never leaving hers. “The most sordid part of the tale, really.”

Dany pressed her lips together, a breath streaming out through her nose, and craned her neck to give Missy and Grey a somewhat chagrined grimace. “I may have possibly pinned the blame on the other Dany. Dany with two n’s. Danny F.”

Jon laughed, until the sound was muffled by his beer bottle meeting his lips. “Fucking Danny Flint. Gods, I hated that guy.” His sinfully long finger unwrapped from the neck of his drink to point Dany’s way. “That’s why we called her Dany T., you see? There were two, and Danny Flint was the biggest fucking troublemaker there. He made an easy fall guy.”

Danny Flint HAD been the fucking worst. Every year, he’d come up with one idea after another to terrorize anyone who crossed his path. And Dany hadn’t been the least bit sorry to blame him, when pressed by Davos, the head counselor, about reports that *A* Dany had allegedly been the one to hotwire the rundown sedan in the lone parking lot by the chow hall. Davos had bought it hook, line, and sinker, and Danny Flint had spent half the summer scrubbing out latrines and cleaning up after dinner.

“Danny Fuckface is what we called him,” she said sweetly, “Remember, Jon?”

Jon snorted and finished off his beer. “Yep, that sounds about right. You know what’s really funny? He’s married with three kids, and owns a bakery in The Twins now. I guess he outgrew his asshole tendencies.”

She felt her eyes widen in disbelief. “Are you serious?”

Jon nodded, and shook his empty at Grey. “You want one, man?”

Grey nodded, then considered Missy, as Dany watched the silent exchange. “Better make it two,” Grey said, narrowing his eyes at Missy. “Gotta catch up with her, I think.”

Missandei just scoffed and settled back against her lounger. “You all need to. Desperately.” She lowered her shades to peer at Dany over the frames, deviously. “Especially you, ma’am.” She looked next to Jon, with a sugary-sweet smile. “Would you grab another mojito for our dear Dany T.?”

Jon stood, and Dany found herself thankful for the sunglasses she’d brought, able to peruse him at her leisure without completely giving herself away. “Sure,” Jon answered, with one last fleeting glance towards Dany, then headed back around the pool towards the bar area. Dany’s mouth went dry trying to discern the curve of his ass through the black fabric of his trunks, because clearly being around him again had awakened her inner teenage pervert. That awful devil had come roaring back too life, unfortunately.

“Go with him,” she heard Missy hiss, and Grey was soon following, catching up to Jon as the women watched. “Okay,” Missy began, much more seriously, flicking a finger against the sun-heated skin of Dany’s forearm, “Let’s discuss how that man can’t keep from staring at you.”

Dany groaned quietly, and shook her head, not daring to allow the pleasure she felt at Missy’s words show on her face. “Missy, I really forgot how pushy you are when you’re buzzed. Let’s *not* discuss it. Let’s shove it way, way down inside and not talk about it, at all, especially not when he’s like twenty yards away, okay?”

She heard her friend cluck her tongue, but she persisted in keeping her gaze squarely on Jon Stark and the way he looked, hands loaded down with drinks, nimbly weaving his way around the crowds that had only grown at the poolside. “Not another word, Missy,” Dany whispered, pasting on a hasty smile when Jon handed her a fresh drink, the cool glass a welcome sensation in the sweltering heat. “Thanks, Jon,” she chirped, taking a quick sip as he handed off the other beverages and took his seat.

Grey piped up, from her right. “I think fair is fair, Dany. I need to hear incriminating teenage Jon stories, please.”

Dany glanced over to see Jon fidget a little uncomfortably, his eyes trained on her, obviously hesitant about what she was going to say. The trouble was, they already knew about the event Jon himself had called his most embarrassing, and she was hard pressed to come up with anything that would really make him squirm, because in all honesty, Jon had always seemed to keep to himself most every summer. With the exception of his family, Dany couldn’t recall him stirring things up the way some of the other boys had.

Except for one thing.

“Well, I don’t know about incriminating,” she said slowly, drawing each word out and grinning devilishly as Jon began to wince, “But I can definitely say that if any of us ever needed to recover confiscated contraband, we always went to Jon.”

She giggled at the sight of Jon smiling mischievously, nodding as he idly perused the crowd before responding. “Aye,” he finally sighed. “I did have something of a flair for breaking and entering, in my youth.”

Dany broke into a fit of riotous laughter at that. A ‘flair’ was a sever understatement. Everyone at camp had known that Jon could pick just about any lock on the grounds, and his years long penchant for wearing all black whenever he could get away with it made him hard to spot at night, when he would slip through the window of Davos’s cabin once the sun went down, and return with any number of illicit things. Cigarettes, weed, cell phones; Nothing was impossible for Jon to reclaim, and if he liked the person he didn’t even charge for his services. If Jon hadn’t liked you, back then, well, you’d better be willing to pony up at least ten bucks to retrieve your things.

“Jon,” Grey intoned solemnly, shaking his head, clearly fighting to hold in his own laughter, “I can hardly believe it. You were such a rule-follower in the Army.”

Jon waggled his eyebrows and drink his beer. “My teenage years were full of rebellion and I clearly needed structure, Grey. What can I say?” He cocked his head to the side, lips twitching, and returned his focus to Dany. “Although Davos used to say my problem was idle hands and a lack of guidance. Well, that and the stutter,” he said with a shrug, taking another swallow.

Dany frowned slightly. Here was yet another thing she apparently hadn’t really known about him. She opened her mouth to speak, only to be stymied by Tyrion megaphone-enhanced voice, announcing it was time to limbo with an enthusiasm that she wasn’t sure the limbo deserved.

Missy seemed to disagree, jumping up with a shriek and grabbing Grey’s hand, tugging her clearly reluctant husband to his feet. “Let’s go!” Dany’s brow wrinkled; She’d known Missy since college, and had never, ever known her to be particularly fond of this middle-school party game, and realized fairly quickly that she was trying to force some alone time between Jon and Dany.

Gods, she hoped it wasn’t obvious. Things had just gotten ‘not-weird’ between herself and Jon, and the last thing she wanted was a return of the super-awkward tension of the first part of this trip. She risked a peek at Jon, who was merely watching, bemused, as Missy proceeded to haul Grey around the curved edge of the pool perimeter to where Tyrion and his assistant Shae stood in a circle of party-goers, sipping out of coconuts and clearly on their way to getting rip-roaring drunk again.

Silence fell over the pair, and they exchanged several suddenly-shy looks before Dany remembered what he’d just revealed. She took another sip of her drink, savoring the rum and mint flavor for a moment before piercing the quiet. “I didn’t know you had a stutter. Back then, I mean,” she clarified quickly, but he just smiled a little more widely and shrugged.

“That’s why I kind of just kept to myself. I had to do three years of speech therapy before I could actually feel comfortable talking to someone who wasn’t my family.” It struck her, as he spoke, how lonely that must have truly been for him. She almost wished she’d known, back then; Maybe she’d have been a little braver about approaching him, instead of thinking he was just aloof and too cool for everyone. “Not that it stopped Theon from trying to take the piss out of me constantly for it.”

“Ugh.” Dany frowned and turned so that she was perched on her side in the lounger, facing Jon fully. “Why did you guys hang out with that shit weasel so much?”

Jon rolled his eyes. “His father and my Uncle were really good friends, so Theon was just, always around, you know?” Jon shifted around so that he mirrored her position, new beer cradled in one palm. “His dad was a dick, too, so it’s not like Theon could really help it, I guess.”

Dany discreetly checked her watch, noting time seemed to be flying by, the smell of food cooking away on several large grills making her stomach rumble. “You’re being generous, I think. If I ever see him again I’ll black his other eye.”

Jon chuckled under his breath, leaning a bit closer, his voice lowering and rasping in a way that made her shiver, just a little. “I think I’d pay good money to see that.”

Dany gulped down another swallow of her drink and beamed. “No need, I’ll do it for free.”

\----------

The sun had begun to dip down on the horizon, the Pentoshi sunset just as beautiful as it ever had been, but Dany’s attention was squarely on Jon Stark.

Maybe Missy had been right. She did need to get to know him, and not even really *again*, because she wasn’t sure she’d actually known him all those years ago. She’d been infatuated with the way he looked, with the idea of him, but there seemed to be far more to him than she’d anticipated.

They filled their plates at the buffet together and snagged a seat at a cocktail table on the periphery, away from the raucous crowd and blast of music, content to chat as they ate and watched the party unfold around them. Hotel staff wandered around, lighting tea lights in the center of each table setting, casting Jon’s face in a warm, golden glow, making it an impossibility that she could look away even if she wanted to.

He had been telling her the whole sad, sordid tale of his youth outside of summer camp; That he’d been sent to live with his deceased mother’s brother in Winterfell after she’d died, that he’d never known his father, save for the fact that he was a Dornishman named Arthur who’d died before Jon was born, and never married his mother. He glossed over parts his life there, she could sense, outside of his exploits with the cousins who’d become more like siblings to him, over time. His aunt had disliked him, that much Jon made clear, but as he tore into a dinner roll with his fingers, he explained what had driven him to join the Army at eighteen.

“My Uncle had a heart attack, right after Robb and I graduated.” He was tearing the bread into small chunks and dropping them onto his plate, his long elegant fingers clearly itching for something to do as he spoke. “And when it became clear he wasn’t going to be able to do much of anything, anymore, my aunt kicked me out. Said they couldn’t afford an extra mouth anymore.” He shoved a piece of bread into his mouth, forcefully, and swallowed hard. “I went down and enlisted the next day, and never looked back.”

He looked up, then, gray eyes catching hers and clinging, holding. “I’m sorry,” he said, and then ducked his head, as if he was ashamed. “I swear, all of my stories are depressing as fuck. At least the ones about me, I guess.”

Dany smiled, kindly she hoped, and barely refrained from using her hands to stop his from twitching. There were still lines between them that she wasn’t sure about crossing, for professional and personal reasons, lines that were blurring, certainly, but still there. Instead, she nudged her foot against his under the table. “I have depressing stories, for your information. Loads of them.”

Jon hummed, looking a little disbelieving, and leaned back in his high-backed stool, crossing his arms across his chest and peering at her in the candlelight. “Okay, let’s hear one.”

Dany put aside her fork and set her napkin down primly, sensing the dare in his voice. “Okay, try this. I know how to hotwire a car because my brother Viserys made your life of petty crime look like child’s play, Jon Stark. He was in and out of juvie the whole time I was growing up, and until my dad died my parents pretty much ignored me completely, because Viserys was always fucking up. He’s currently sitting in Volantis, serving ten years for armed robbery. I always say I’m going to cut him off, because he’s the most toxic person I’ve ever met, but I break down and write to him every month, because I’m all he has.”

She was a little shocked with herself, that she’d divulged as much as she had. Even Missy didn’t know everything about what had happened with Vis, but here she was, telling a man who was an acquaintance, at best, and she thought maybe she ought to drink some water, because the rum was pulling the truth from her more rapidly than she cared for.

She held her breath, as he took in her words, nodding slowly as he considered what she’d said. He kissed his teeth and sucked in a breath, and pointed towards her. “Okay, you’re a contender for most depressing story. But is that all you’ve got?”

Dany snickered and tried to scowl at him. “I didn’t know it was a contest.”

“It is,” he said decisively. He waved the fingers of both hands at her, lips curving up, as if motioning her closer. “Gonna need more than that, if you want to win.”

Her tongue felt dangerously loose, and she was tired of fighting it, so she gave in and leaned on her elbow, narrowing her eyes. “Challenge accepted. How about this? When my father died, my mother had a full, complete breakdown. Like, she had to be hospitalized. She wouldn’t speak, she wouldn’t eat.” Dany dropped her eyes to her empty plate, studying the pattern along the border instead of holding his gaze. “It was like she didn’t even know me anymore. I had to go live with my oldest brother, Rhaegar, and his wife and kids, until she could function again. He and my father had already fallen out, see, so I couldn’t even talk about losing my dad with him. I just kinda bottled it up, I guess. Kicked up my teenage rebellion into overdrive for awhile. That car at camp wasn’t the last one I hotwired.”

Dany swallowed down another drink, eyes shooting up to find Jon pinning her with a steady stare. “I was one mouth too many, at my brother’s house. His wife couldn’t wait to get me out of there, thought I’d be a ‘bad influence’ on her kids. As soon as my mom was released, I was gone, but nothing was ever normal again. I was taking care of her, instead of the other way around. When I left for college, it was a relief.”

Jon didn’t say a word, not for several moments, just regarded her with a solemn understanding. He idly tapped his finger against his closed lips, before he quietly responded. “Let’s call it a draw.” He motioned to a passing waiter and ordered them each another drink, glancing quickly at her to confirm she wanted one more, smiling at her nod. “A tie in the competition to see who has the bleakest, most utterly depressing life stories.”

Dany giggled at that, her eyes rising to wander the crowds, spotting Missy and Grey doing shots and playing some sort of drinking game with a small group near some folding tables, the area lit by burning tiki torches. “We’re massive party poopers. Let’s just admit that and be done with it. I accept your tie.”

She extended one slim hand, and huffed out another laugh as he took it and gripped it firmly with his own, giving her a business-like shake. “Good,” he said, clearly amused as well, his eyes crinkling around the edges as he grinned, “I’m glad that’s settled.”

Fresh drinks arrived, and they sat in companionable quiet for a few minutes, until an uproarious cheer and enormous amount of splashing signaled the party seemed to be moving to the shallow end of the pool. Stannis Baratheon appeared to be in the processing of wrestling an enormous watermelon into submission, as a loose circle of swimmers tried to take it from his grip.

“Oh, Gods help me, this isn’t going to end well.” Jon’s utterance made her wrinkle her nose, and she stared at him fall longer than she ought to, she knew, but she was beyond help at this point. He looked at her, then their drinks. “You wanna take these to go? Before this turns into an absolute shitshow and the party-pooper contingent gets roped into it?”

Dany licked her lips, a flicker of desire rushing through her that he seemed to follow the motion extraordinarily closely before he caught himself. “Yeah,” she heard herself saying, all the while wondering if this was a great idea or a terrible, awful, extremely stupid one. “Let’s go.”

They moved as a unit, together to retrieve her belongings, and ended up walking back along the beach, instead of the paved path. Dany tucked her sandals into her bag, her drink in hand as they slipped along the sand, the sun fully down, with only the moon to guide them back to their cabana.

\-------------

It was odd, the things she remembered, recollections that hit her fast, and suddenly.

She was standing in her tropically appointed room, rummaging through the drawers of her dresser and pulling out a loose t-shirt and shorts to slip into, when the memory hit her, so vivid and sharp that she could almost smell that silly cherry body spray she’d liked to douse herself in when she was sixteen, could hear the plaintive slow ballads playing from Margaery’s clandestine radio, one her friend had snuck in via a secret, sewn pocket in her suitcase.

Her very first kiss.

It was a party in one of the boy’s cabins, everyone their age gathered in clusters and groups well after the counselors had retired for the night, the muffled sound of hooting and clapping ringing in her ears as soft, full lips had brushed against hers, first gently, then more firmly.

As far as kisses were judged, it had been a good one. The teenage version of herself had been weak-kneed from it, terrified and excited, unable to see just who it was that had joined her for ‘Seven Minutes in Heaven’. Margaery had blindfolded her and shoved her into the cramped closet the entire cabin shared, after she’d sternly watched Dany drink one entire wine cooler, which had been well enough to make her a little fuzzy-headed.

Whoever it was had seemed to know what they were doing, at least. It hadn’t been the horror stories she’d heard whispers about; Her mystery partner hadn’t shoved his tongue down her throat, or immediately grabbed at her chest. In hindsight, she had to appreciate that he’d been a gentleman about it, as much as a teenage boy could be, she guessed.

Margaery had clearly known who it was, after. When time had been called, Dany had been immediately released, fumbling with shaking hands at her blindfold with clumsy fingers, and by the time she’d been able to see again he was gone, whoever he’d been. But Margaery’s smug little smile hadn’t faded, and she hadn’t wavered in her resolve to not tell Dany who it had been.

When Margaery had insisted that she’d made a promise, and she had to keep it, Dany had felt a little betrayed, had put some distance between herself and the girl who’d been her very best friend at camp for years and years.

Then her father had died, and she’d left, and she’d never spoken to Margaery again.

She wondered, idly, with a bittersweet fondness, what had happened to Margaery Tyrell, over the years.

And maybe it was being around Jon again, the smell of him, his nearness, igniting something hot and crawling under her skin, this *want* that seemed to be slowly consuming her, that had stirred the memory to life. Because she’d always secretly harbored the hope that she knew exactly who it was that had kissed her so soundly, so sweetly – the very same person no doubt waiting outside for her to finish changing.

Blindly, even as her mind replayed the experience, she tugged off her suit and threw on her clothes, snickering at the look of pleading on Jon’s face when he’d asked her to meet him on the deck in ten minutes, insisting he had a *surprise*.

She wondered, as she pulled her hair free from the elastic it had been bound in, and let it tumble into loose waves around her shoulders, what sorts of delicious trouble she might get into with Jon Stark, if she found herself shoved into a dark, cramped space with HIM for seven minutes.

Something more adult, definitely, she thought, grinning at herself in the mirror, face falling a bit as she realized it was very obvious she wasn’t wearing a bra, wondering if she ought to put one on.

“Hey, Dany?” His call was muffled by the closed door, but enough to shake her from her reverie.

Fuck it, she thought. They were just engaging in some harmless flirting, if that. They were just spending time together. They were old friends, sort of.

Acquaintances.

Jon had seen her in the midst of her awkward teenage growth spurts, or lack thereof.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” she whispered to herself in the mirror, then raised her voice and headed for the door. “Coming,” she yelled back, body tingling with giddy excitement and left to find out what her mysterious surprise was.

\-------------

Dany forced them both to down a glass of ice-chilled water in the tiny kitchenette, reminding Jon that he didn’t want to end up hunkered over the toilet later, saying a prayer to the porcelain Gods, grinning as he agreed heartily.

He downed his glass in record time, looking positively twitchy as he watched her finish hers, fidgeting in place until she plunked her empty glass down on the table and smacked her lips.

“C’mon,” he said, so animated that she bit her lip at the sight of it. If brooding, melancholy teenage Jon Stark had provoked obsessive yearning in her, this Jon was capable of even more. Back then, she hadn’t really *known* what she wanted, or what she would’ve done with him if she’d managed to corner him alone in the empty boat house down by the lake, like Jeyne Westerling had done with Edric Storm.

He was horrifyingly appealing when he was excited, even more so now than he had been long ago, and unlike before Dany had an entire laundry list of very mature things she would like to do with him, under the right circumstances.

The trouble was figuring out what exactly the right circumstances were. Because she had no doubt she could just fuck him, if she wanted. But was that what she wanted?

She didn’t think so. She didn’t want to fuck him and be done with him, then spend years working with him, sitting across from him during meetings and conferences, didn’t want the weirdness that could develop from that.

She’d done her share of friends with benefits over the years, and it wasn’t the sort of thing that could last. Someone always got too attached, and things changed, and the brutal truth of it all was that she didn’t think she could do that with Jon.

In that scenario, she strongly suspected her attachment to him would only grow, and she would want more.

She liked him, liked spending time with him, was pleased to find that while there had been many things about him that had seemed a mystery, he genuinely was nice, and funny, and there was a sweet politeness to him, something gentlemanly, about the way he was around her.

Dany hadn’t exactly had much of that particular trait in her life, and it wasn’t the sort of thing to just use and toss aside to get her rocks off at a company retreat.

Jon was oblivious to her internal struggle, grasping her bare elbow just below the hem of her thin shirt sleeve and guiding her to one of the two deck chairs he’d drug over to the railing in her absence, well clear of the nefarious covered hot tub that she knew she needed to avoid, at least for a while longer. It was going to be impossible to resist him in there. “Okay,” he breathed out, still smiling widely, “Sit right there.”

Dany obliged, the salty breeze off the sea ruffling her hair as she shifted against the hard, molded plastic of the chair.

“Now, close your eyes.”

Her brow climbed, skeptically, and she tipped her head at him, studying him closely, looking for signs of what he was up to. “If you’re going to prank me, Jon Stark, be warned, I won’t just reserve my right hook for Theon Greyjoy.”

Hands held up, as if in surrender, or perhaps reassurance, Jon let out a quiet laugh. “I swear, no pranks. Now close your eyes Dany T.,” he urged, taking the seat next to her and leaning on his elbow, his face now dangerously close to hers. “Unless you’re chicken.”

Gods, she could feel his breath puffing out, brushing against her lips, and a part of her wanted to prove that she was anything but chicken by kissing him, right there, but somehow she refrained, instead raising both brows and giving him a challenging, playful glare. “I certainly am not.” She let her back rest against the seat, and closed her eyes, sitting primly as he laughed under his breath.

“Hold out your hand.”

Her eyes were still closed, but she managed a scowl in his direction even as she obeyed. “Jon Stark, if you’re going to lick my hand—”

 _…There are other places you could start_ , her mind finished for her. What touched her palm was neither hot nor wet, to her slight disappointment, instead something light and hard to discern.

“Open them,” he said, amusement clear in his voice, following the order with a “Tada!” as she opened her eyes and looked at her outstretched palm.

She examined the object for several minutes, then smirked, trying to work up a mask of shocked offense. “Jon Stark!” She held the object up between her thumb and forefinger, raising it to her nose and giving a sniff to confirm her suspicions. “Is this a marijuana cigarette? The devil’s grass? Wacky Tobaccky? The--”

He was laughing hard, now, the sound wheezing out as he held up a hand. “Oh Gods, please stop. Who calls it that? Are you fifty?” He gave her an exaggerated nod and fished a lighter out of his pocket. “Yes, it’s a joint, Dany T., a fact which I am sure you are familiar with. You can’t fool me, I know better.”

Dany snorted indelicately, taking the proffered lighter, and taking a hit, pleased she still remembered the taste even though it had been years. It was harsh, but she managed to hold it in, smoke streaming out in a cloud that wreathed the air above them as she giggled uncontrollably. “You truly have outdone yourself. Dare I ask where you got this? Has Sticky Fingers Jon Stark truly emerged from hibernation?”

Jon pursed his lips and waited for her to take another small hit before she handed it off to him, not answering until he’d taken one of his own. “No, actually,” he said on an exhale. “I got it from Grey, for your information. And, if you must know, I never stole weed at camp, either. Davos gave it to me.”

Disbelief was clearly written all over her face as she stared at him, the urge to laugh at his expression growing stronger as she began to feel pleasantly warm and comfortably numb.

“It’s true,” he said plainly, despite her skepticism. “He was growing it, like, a mile from the campgrounds. I thought everyone knew that. He thought it might mellow me out.”

They both laughed at that, and passed the joint between them, and it was like she was caught in some strange time machine, existing in the past and present at once. One moment Jon was as he seemed to be, grown and bearded and recklessly handsome; When she blinked he was younger, smaller, but no less beautiful in the moonlight. She searched for something to say, everything seeming to slow, to a peaceful, easy crawl.

“Hey,” she said suddenly, “Do you remember that year Danny Fuckface stole all the underwear from the girls’ cabins?”

Jon nearly choked on his next exhale, coughing into his hand and clearing his throat a few times, eyes beginning to pink along with his cheeks above the dark line of hair on his jaw. “Oh, Aye,” he managed, his free hand dropping to her bare forearm where it rest along the plastic of her chair. He squeezed, and it was like he was branding her with his touch, her every nerve ending alight and *aware* of him. Oh yes, she thought, this was a familiar feeling, to be so aware of him, but his touch added a new and not unwanted dimension to things. “He stole ours, too.”

“What?” She squawked so loud she was almost embarrassed, but her amazed shock just seemed to set Jon off again, and he collapsed back against his chair, lost in bubbling endless laughter that seemed to go on for minutes. He tried to speak several times, but then the cycle would begin again, and he would shake his head. She was torn between watching him, nearly in tears as he gasped and wheezed, and missing the warmth of his hand on her skin as he withdrew his arm.

“Oh shit,” he finally squeaked out, passing her the joint and swiping a thumb under each eye. “Yeah,” he continued, shoulders still shaking every now and then with amusement he fought valiantly to contain. “His mom had some thing about him not being allow to wear underwear, that it was bad for his circulation, so he told Davos he stole everyone’s underwear because if he couldn’t wear them, neither could anyone else.”

Dany’s eyes bugged out, and she snickered into her hand, her eyes squeezed shut as she pictured poor Danny Fuckface, forced to go commando and finally snapping. “That poor dipshit,” she said with a sigh, then took another hit. It was coming easier, now, everything was, the small knot of tension that persisted when she was around Jon finally dissolving completely.

But there was something else, too, growing in its’ place, a surety about the memory from earlier, and before she could overthink the wisdom of it she found herself speaking. “Hey, Jon, can I ask you something?”

Jon’s eyes were warm with laughter, and maybe something else, maybe the very same thing that was coursing through her; a slow, easy desire that seemed to spark back to life when they were together. “Sure,” he drawled, his legs now propped up on the deck railing, his eyes leaving hers to stare at the field of stars above them.

“When we were at camp,” she began, “remember how we used to have those parties in our cabins, once the grownups were asleep?”

Jon huffed out a chuckle. “Yep, sure do. Who do you think found all the ‘party favors’,” he made air quotes, head rolling around to give her a lazy grin.

“Naturally,” she said, and tried to really pin down the right words to use, taking another hit as butterflies began to wage war in her stomach. “That last summer, the one my dad died, we used to play all sorts of silly games, remember?”

Another chuffing laugh, and Jon rubbed at his eyes as he answered. “I do remember that. Gods, who was it that Brienne had to kiss during ‘Spin the Bottle’? Then she gave him a swirlie the next day because he told everyone she was a shit kisser?”

Her mind was tumbling around in slow-motion, and she squinted into the night as she struggled to recall, finally landing on the name after several moments. “Wasn’t it Bronn? Gods, I can’t remember his last name, but I’m pretty sure it was him.”

Jon gave a sharp, barking laugh and nodded. “Yeah, that was it. Someone really should have been supervising us, in retrospect. Too many raging hormones in such a small space.”

Dany handed him the joint, sucking in a steadying breath through her nose, hands now gripping the plastic arms of her chair with near-white knuckle pressure. “Did you ever play? That year?”

Again, he rolled his head lazily to the side, still smiling faintly. “What, Spin the Bottle? Naah. I was usually out front keeping watch and smoking the cigarettes I stole from Littlefinger.”

Another quick, shaky breath, so quietly done she hoped he didn’t notice, then her eyes darted back to catch his. “What about the other games?”

Something shifted in his gaze, an awareness flickering across his face that told her she was probably, hopefully, absolutely right in her suspicions. It didn’t even matter, she told herself, not really, except that she’d always wanted to know who it had been, that first person to ever kiss her, with a gentle skill that had managed to sully the kisses that had come after. He seemed a bit uneasy when he spoke next, eyes shifting away from hers briefly. He busied himself in relighting the joint. “Did you have a particular one in mind?”

Her confidence in the identity of this mystery kisser were growing by the moment, and her nerves abated as she watched him take a hit, waiting until he’d blown it out to continue. “Like, maybe, I don’t know,” she raised her hands and shrugged, “Seven Minutes in Heaven for example? Did you ever play that one, Jon Stark?”

Jon was bathed in silver light, but to her eyes he seemed to pale, just a little, definitely nervous as he cleared his throat and mumbled quietly, “Ah, maybe once, I think? It’s so hard to remember.” He made a show of scratching his head, eyes widening as he attempted an innocent look.

Now, she was sure of it.

“Hmmm.” She hummed under her breath, then propped her legs up beside his on the railing, her eyes never leaving his, head turned to the left as her hair streamed down her shoulders. “That’s interesting. I played that game once, did you know that?”

“Oh, really?” His voice was growing higher by the minute, and she wondered how long he thought he could keep this act up, because he was clearly busted, and he seemed to know it. “Isn’t that a coincidence.” His gray eyes were looking everywhere but at her, as he feigned a casual indifference.

“Yes,” she said dryly, “what a remarkable coincidence. It was my very first kiss, in fact.”

After she spoke, she slowly turned her head back, and held her tongue, knowing at this point he was likely going to be too curious for his own good. And she was proven right, as moments later she heard him pipe up quietly. “So, how was it?” She chuckled but remained silent. “I mean, first kisses are a pretty big deal. Must’ve been pretty disappointing if you’re so quiet.”

Oh, he was shameless, sitting there trying to look so disinterested, but she could hear the desperate edge of curiosity in his voice. It had definitely, definitely been him.

“Well,” she finally said, watching his head jerk around to peer at her from the corner of her eye, “It was actually pretty good, if you must know.”

There was nothing but the sound of waves crashing to shore, and the call of night birds that congregated near the water’s edge, for several moments, but then she heard Jon release a telling, heavy breath.

“That’s good. I mean,” he stammered hurriedly, “No one wants a shitty first kiss, right?” He gave a nervous laugh, and rubbed at the back of his neck, and there was something so endearing about the way he seemed so unsure of how to proceed that she felt herself fall a little more deeply under his unintentional spell.

“If I had to guess, I’d say my partner there in that stuffy little closet had done some practicing. It definitely wasn’t his first kiss. He seemed to know what he was doing, alright.” She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing, her head swimming pleasantly from the weed and the slowly fading rum and the company, most of all. Teasing him was surprisingly enjoyable, as well, as his narrowed eyes and careful, intense stare suggested he likely knew that she knew.

His face wrinkled, and he rasped one hand along his jaw as he held her eyes. “Hmm, probably,” he agreed lightly. “Always best to be prepared.”

She grinned, in spite of the glare she was attempting, and crossed her arms across her chest. “Just spill it, Jon,” she said, with an exaggerated sigh. “It was you, wasn’t it?” The way he straightened completely, tensing, his jaw set, seemed extremely funny to her, though she realized she was probably just fairly high at this point. “If it makes you feel any more like making a full confession, I should tell you it was definitely better than pretty good, in terms of kissing. Not that I knew any better then, of course.”

With a groan, he relaxed back into his seat, finally meeting her eyes. “Alright,” he said resignedly, his frown cracking into a smile when she raised her hands to cheer in silent victory, “It was me.”

Testing the waters that she knew were probably better left untested, but well beyond the point of self-control, she let her left hand fall onto the warm skin of his shoulder, the heat of him plain even through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. “Why did you run off before I could see it was you?”

The look Jon gave her was one of pure astonishment, his eyes darting from her hand to her face in surprise. “Dany, before I met you here the first night I was thoroughly convinced that you hated my guts. Never mind the bit about Theon paying you off to follow me around.”

“Which wasn’t true,” she interjected, pointing a finger at him to emphasize her point.

“Which wasn’t true,” he repeated, conceding the point, “But I for sure wasn’t gonna stick around for you to find out that the person kissing you was, to my mind, the person you hated most.”

Dany thought it over for a second. She couldn’t really argue with his logic, as she’d been under the same impression she had. If the roles had been reversed, she would’ve absolutely done the same thing.

“I didn’t hate you.” The words slipped through her lips so quickly even she was surprised, and Jon grew very still, eyes trained heavily on her in the moonlight. “I mean, I assume it’s pretty obvious now that it was sort of the opposite, actually.”

That earned her a tiny little smile, that indefinable *thing* that he made her feel reflected back in his eyes as he gazed at her. “Yeah, I figured that part out.”

When he didn’t say anything else, she felt a telltale tightening in her gut, overriding the simmering desire that had claimed her the moment he’d appeared at the pool. That was all he had to say? Maybe he didn’t really understand, and she should spell it out. Her mouth decided that was a terrific course of action, before her mind could catch up. “I mean, like, I had a huge, enormous crush on you.”

His unnerving silence was going to make her go crazy, she was sure of it. Or maybe he was just really, really high and so he required a longer response time. It was impossible to tell, surrounded by night, with half his face in shadow as he faced her. “So, is that past tense?”

“Huh?” She was taken aback by the question, and it took a minute to process what he was asking her. But he was speaking again before she could answer.

“You said you *had* a crush on me, I mean. So, that’s all over and done with, then? Well in the past? You’ve grown, you’ve changed, you have completely different tastes now?” Suddenly he seemed completely sober, eyes expectant, brows quirked as he studied her.

“Ah, well,” she hemmed, her own hands beginning to toy with the hem of her shirt. “I mean I wouldn’t go that far.” When she dared to see his reaction she saw him relaxing back into his seat, almost relieved, smiling almost smugly.

“Cool.” His one word answer made her titter with laughter, and he was grinning by the time he looked her way again, tearing his eyes from the inky black of the sky surrounding them. “That makes me feel a million times better.”

Dany shook her head, getting control of herself before she dared get a clearer answer. “Why is that, then?” He gave her a look so sweet that it was a simple thing, to reach her arm into the space between their chairs and link her pinky with his.

“Dany, I obviously had a massive crush on you the entire time we were in camp together. Do you know why I threw up on your shoes that day?”

Dany giggled, swinging their joined hands back and forth lightly. “You hated pink and purple light up tennis shoes?”

Jon shook his head emphatically, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “I thought you were the prettiest girl I’d ever seen, and I was so petrified I was going to make a stuttering fool out of myself that it made me physically ill.”

Everything inside of her wanted to rejoice, to believe that Missy had been right, that this was some sort of second chance at the things she’d always wanted, with the person her young heart had desired above all others. But the grown up, lingering, nagging voice in her head flared to life, even as she searched his face, not finding any trace of guilt, or deceit. All she saw there was a sort of earnest honesty, but still, it almost seemed to good to be true.

Dany blinked slowly, looking down at their joined hands, then back to Jon’s face. “You’re either exactly what I think you are, Jon Stark, or you’re very good. Very convincing.”

A frowned marred his handsome features, his spine stiffening again. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you might be telling me the truth. Or,” she trailed of hesitantly, “maybe you figured all this out pretty quickly and know just what to say to get in my pants.”

He dropped her hand from his quickly, as though she’d burned him, and she instantly regretted saying it. But her mouth had stopped listening to her mind altogether, now, and there was a part of her that was still very much afraid that he was simply going to take what he wanted and drop her like yesterday’s news the minute he was done, and she would be the one hurt in the exchange.

“Do you really think I’m that kind of asshole?” He didn’t seem angry, just hurt, and that was even worse, wasn’t what she’d meant. His eyes flew from hers to focus on the wood grain of the deck railing.

Slowly, hesitantly, she put her hand on his shoulder for a second time that night, and was relieved that he didn’t flinch from her touch. He didn’t meet her eyes, either, and leaning closer, she saw the muscle in his jaw ticking away. “I don’t think that, Jon. At least I don’t want to. I’ve just known a lot of assholes, since the last time I met you. The kind that will say whatever they need to, to get what they want.”

She saw Jon run his tongue along his teeth, behind his closed, tight lips, watching let out a low, steady breath, before he finally brought his head up. “I get it.” His eyes narrowed, dropped to her mouth, then back to her face. “Lucky for me, I can 100% back up my claim.” His lips quirked, and he rolled his eyes, seeming slightly worried, but no longer withdrawn. “Depending on how much embarrassment I’m willing to withstand in order to do so.”

She was intrigued, by the offer, unsure of exactly how he meant to go about proving that he had, in fact, been as monumentally infatuated with her as she had with him, wondering when she’d accepted that she was very likely going to be fine with it, welcoming even, if he wanted to make a move and act on this thing between them. Hell, at this point, she was very close to just jumping him, and finding out if he still kissed like he did back then, and probably (definitely) more than that, though she wasn’t sure one of these stupid plastic chairs could support them both.

But more than anything, she felt a pang of regret, because she realized he was serious, and she wasn’t going to force him to convince her of something that was already plain to see.

“You don’t have to do that, Jon. I really don’t think you’re that kind of asshole, I swear.” She drew an ‘X’ over her heart, just like when they were kids, a solemn oath if they had been on the hallowed grounds of Camp Riverrun.

He had sucked his bottom lip partially into his mouth, his teeth hanging on the full, plump flesh, and she was about to offer to take over for him when he stood, abruptly, and offered his hand. “C’mon,” he said gruffly, nodding his head towards the interior of the cabana. “There’s something I need to do.”

 _Me_ , her clearly addled and now fully hopeless mind offered helpfully. _You definitely need to do me._

She was relieved, when there was no reaction from him, that she at least hadn’t said that out loud, and took his hand with hers, smiling at the feel of their fingers lacing together as he led the way. She followed, wondering exactly what he had planned, not even bothering to be disturbed by the fact that each step she took only increased the way she ached for him.


	3. Risky Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon proves some things. Our favorite couple finally gets their fuck on. What did you expect? Plot?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there was a little more (very silly, completely pointless) story left to this after they finally got down to boning. Working on it now, so let's say Monday unless I really get a ton of time tomorrow to polish it up. I hope you enjoy! As always, this is not beta-ed, as I am way too impatient for that shit, so forgive my boo-boos, comes with the territory I guess.
> 
> One day the stars will align and I'll clean it up :)
> 
> Until then, enjoy, and stay safe!

  
The chilled air inside the cabana hit her like an icy blast, but it was difficult to care, because Jon Stark’s hand was solid and hot in hers, and that sensation was like a drug, in and of itself. His eyes were dark, focused like lasers on hers, so intent that he knocked his knee against the coffee table in front of the large, overstuffed sofa.

“Fuck,” he swore, and dropped her hand to bend and rub at his bare kneecap, smiling sheepishly up at her when she giggled at the sight of him.

“You alright?” She poked at his shoulder with a finger, grinning. “Maybe you ought to sleep off your beers and,” she smirked, “half a joint?”

Jon frowned at her, though his eyes gave away his mirth. “Hardly.” He straightened, and took her by the shoulders, guiding her to sit on the sofa then squeezing before he released her. “Wait here.”

He disappeared into his room, and she enjoyed the view openly, as he walked away, leaning back against the plump cushions and closing her eyes for a moment, wondering what on earth it was he had planned, knowing it wasn’t really necessary. It was that old, nagging fear that had prompted her to say what she had, to wonder if he was just using her obvious and to her mind pathetic childhood crush against her to get naked.

She wondered what she would’ve done, as she heard him rustling around in the other room, if she had found him there with her in that closet, all those years ago. Maybe everything would’ve been different, or nothing.

It didn’t really matter, she thought, her lids parting as she heard him enter the room again, his laptop clutched in his hand, his features decidedly more nervous than they had been moments ago. He was here now, and so was she, and that was the important thing.

Also important, she thought hazily, was the way the muscles in his arms flexed and bunched as he took a seat beside her, so close their thighs brushed as he shifted and settled into the cushions. He seemed full of a strange, tense energy now, and she peered sideways to find him giving her a wary, unsure look before he glanced back to his laptop.

“Jon.” She took a chance, hoping against hope she hadn’t severely misread where all this was going, and let her hand rest on his thigh atop his black swim shorts. His gaze shot to hers, and he let out a heavy breath and gave her a shaky smile. “You don’t have to do this, seriously, whatever it is.”

He was gnawing on his bottom lip again, just staring at her, clearly thinking things through, but then shook his head decisively. “I think it would be best to know we’re on the same page here, Dany T.”

Slipping away from her touch, he stood, and made his way to the minibar area set along the opposite wall, just below a large, mounted flat screen television. Rummaging around, he raised a hand above his head, wiggling the tiny bottle in his fingers in her direction. “I think I’m gonna need a little liquid courage. You want one?”

Dany shook her head, caught in a strange limbo of giddiness and desire that made her thighs press tightly together as she waited for him to return. “I’m good.” Which was true; She felt warm, and a little high, still a little buzzed from her drinks, though that was wearing off quickly. The only worrisome thing now was how increasingly impatient she could feel herself growing. She wanted to get her hands on him, and the reasons not to had evaporated swiftly after their little chat on the deck.

Jon smirked and returned, pulling out his cell phone, thumbing the keys on the screen, texting, she assumed.

Then he placed his phone on the table, setting aside his little bottle of what she assumed was whiskey, from the label, and shifted his body so that he was facing her.

Her hands were soon in his, and he had grown solemn, and resolute, the twin set of lamps on either side of the couch fully illuminating the firm set of his jaw and the flare of heat in his eyes.

“Dany,” he said seriously, “In case I’m too mortified to do this later and, I dunno,” he winced slightly, “maybe I puke out of habit, I need to get this out of the way.”

Before she could speak at all, or even blink, his head was dipping to hers, and he was kissing her. Her eyes fell shut, and the moan that escaped her lips at the first press of his would have embarrassed her, but she was too swamped by sensation, to overwhelmed by the feel of him, the taste of him, as she opened her mouth to him fully.

Gods, it really had been him.

There was something magic in the way he kissed her, something that made her feel like she was burning alive, and she nipped playfully at his bottom lip before sweeping her tongue against the plump curve, smiling at the way he groaned in return.

Her hands began to wander, pulling free from his to tease up his abdomen and the muscles of his chest, creeping up to wrap around his neck. She was a breath away from pulling herself into his lap and straddling him, ready to forget about everything but this, when he drew away, breathing harshly.

“You got a lot better at that,” he breathed, eyes shining, and she pulled a face, her own breath coming fast and heavy. Swatting at him, she leaned away, though everything inside her screamed for her to take more.

“So did you,” she joked, and it was impossible to keep her smile at bay. The way he was looking at her made her wish time would stop, right then, because she was pretty sure she’d never seen that look in anyone’s eyes before. He looked so hungry, but it was laced with an adoration that made her heart flip in her chest.

Was it love? She knew it was too soon for that, knew these were not the best circumstances to start a relationship, knew there was still so much she didn’t know about him.

But her heart didn’t care. It had wanted him for so long that it was foolish to think she’d be able to stop herself from having him, and if there were consequences she’d just have to take them as they came, because she was far past the point of no return now.

His phone buzzed, vibrating against the glass tabletop, and when he grabbed for it and read the message, she was puzzled by his response. He grinned, then seemed to think better of it, worry sweeping across his face, and to her eyes he seemed to pale a bit.

“Okay,” he breathed out, repeating the word a few times as though he were giving himself a pep talk.

She grabbed for his hand again, curious and concerned when she found it was shaking slightly. “Jon, I mean it. Whatever you’re about to do, it’s not necessary.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, just studied the way her fingers twined and twisted with his, and that seemed to settle him, if only a bit. “No,” he said, more surely now. “I want you to understand.” He sighed, and swept his free hand over his face, then over the crown of his head, a few curls escaping from their binding and haloing around his face before he looked at her with anxious excitement. “Do me a favor, go stand over there.” He gestured to the area beside the mini-bar, against the pale blue wall where the TV sat, and she complied, though she remained clueless as to what he was up to.

As she moved, he flicked the television on with the remote, and with a few keystrokes had managed to sync his laptop to the screen. Silently, she watched him open an app, her brow furrowing as she swung her head around to squint at him. “You’re making a Zoom call?” She checked the clock on the wall by the sliding glass doors. “At 11:00 p.m.?”

With a tiny smile, he nodded. “Aye. It’s only 9:00 in Winterfell.”

“Winterfell?” Her mind raced, and eyes widened, and she sucked in a breath, the field of who on earth he would be video-conferencing with instead of getting naked with her on any number of available surfaces narrowing significantly.

“Not a word, okay?” He pinned her with a knowing look, though she could tell he was still hesitant. “If he knows you’re here, he might not speak freely, and if he doesn’t speak freely, you won’t be sure that I did, in fact, have a massive, completely embarrassing teenage crush on you.”

Dany burst out laughing, covering her mouth with her hands when she glanced at the screen and realized the call was connecting, the camera in Jon’s laptop already displaying him sitting nervously on the couch waiting for the connection to complete.

Then, suddenly, there was someone else there, and though he was clearly older, it was a face she recognized right away.

Robb Stark, a man grown, just like Jon was, sitting at what had to be a desk in a room paneled in a dark, inviting wood, framed pictures decorating the wall behind him, a broad smile on his face.

“Johnny boy!” Robb gave a little wave, then leaned closer to his own camera, as if he were trying to see Jon more clearly. “Where in the hell are you? That’s not your shitty little apartment, is it?” Robb’s face twisted, amused, when Jon rolled his eyes.

“I’m in Pentos, asshole.” There wasn’t any sting behind Jon’s response, and Dany found herself swinging her head between the screen and Jon, sitting there at his laptop, studiously focusing on his cousin and not daring to glance at her.

Robb heaved out a heavy sigh and shook his head, and when he reached up to fiddle with the shade of his desk lamp, she saw the glint of a ring on his finger. “You mean you’re there on those white sand beaches, no doubt surrounded by hotties in bikinis, and instead of getting shitfaced and partying you’re calling me?” With an exaggerated frown the man on the screen crossed his arms. “Shame on you. How can I live vicariously through you like that, Jon? You’ve gotta step it up.”

Jon huffed out a laugh and groaned. “Fuck that, I thought I was the one living vicariously through you. All married off to the love of your life, baby on the way.” Now, Jon did give her a glance, just a small one, and she could tell by the way his lips were twitching he was fighting off a grin. “How is Margaery, by the way?”

Dany managed to contain her surprise to an almost soundless gasp, eyes no doubt wide as saucers as she looked back to the screen, then to Jon, who was watching her with no small measure of amusement. “He married Margaery?” She mouthed the question to him as silently as she could, and he nodded, imperceptibly.

Robb’s face softened visibly. “About to pop, that’s how she is. And that baby wants the weirdest shit to eat, I swear. You caught me between snack runs, you lucky boy.” He jabbed a finger in the air towards his own screen. “Now, let’s get back to you. Why on earth are you calling me when you’re in paradise? No open bar?”

Jon just chuckled and rubbed a hand along his jaw. “Nothing like that. I wanted to ask you something, and I know it’s going to sound weird, but just bear with me.” He reached to the table and cracked the seal on the tiny bottle of liquor and downed it in one shot, grimacing slightly as it no doubt burned its way down his throat. “That’s better.”

She saw Robb’s eyes darting about, probably very confused as to what exactly was going on, and she welcomed the company. “Okay,” he drawled, then leaned back in his desk chair, the springs squeaking. “Go ahead.”

Dany heard the hiss of air between Jon’s clenched teeth, and his hands dropped to brace on his knees. “You remember summer camp?”

Robb seemed taken aback by the question. “Uh, yeah,” he finally muttered, glancing around as if he were trying to work out Jon’s point. “We went there forever, Jon, of course I do.” He shrugged, eyes narrowing into slits as he leaned forward again. “I mean, I met Marg there for godsakes. Are you drunk?”

Jon let out a nervous chuckle. “Not really. Uh,” he was gripping his knees tightly now, “I don’t guess you remember who I had a really huge, all-consuming crush on, do you?”

“Good Gods.” Robb leaned back again, regarding Jon critically. “You’re shitfaced, aren’t you. You’d have to be, to call me from a fucking island to talk about Dany Fucking T.”

Jon’s breath stuttered out, but she couldn’t tell, from across the room, if he was relieved or nauseous. It really could go either way, she mused. “So, you do remember.”

Robb’s face screwed up in disbelief. “Um, yeah, Jon. Everyone knew you had it bad for Dany T. I mean, except for Dany T. Probably because you wouldn’t actually speak to her, if I had to guess.” The auburn-haired man clucked his tongue on the screen. “You know, Marg always swore she had the hots for you, too.” Suddenly, he was laughing. “Hey, do you remember that last summer we were there, when she wore that black bikini to the lake?” He shook his head again, staring off into space. “I mean I can’t say I blame you, Johnny, she was a hottie and a half, for sure.” Whatever he was recalling seemed to stir Robb’s amusement more, and when she peeked back at Jon she could see he looked distinctly alarmed, as though he knew what was coming next and was desperate to stop it.

“Yep, I remember,” Jon said shortly, quickly, but Robb pushed on, now nearly doubled over and wheezing at some unshared memory. But it didn’t stay unshared for long.

“Oh, man, Jon, do you remember,” he gasped for breath, eyes beginning to shine, “How you kept getting a boner every time she’d pop up in that little suit, and then you just quit going to the lake because Theon kept pointing it out? Oh, fuck,” he chortled, and Dany couldn’t help but notice Jon’s face turning exceptionally red.

“I don’t think we need to bring that up, really. And also, you’re probably exaggerating, and if that did happen it was definitely not intended in a creepy way, if it happened at all. Which I am not agreeing that it did.” She wanted to go ahead and just slam that laptop screen shut, because Jon was looking distinctly like he was going to be sick, or at the very least like his face was going to be stuck in that horrified grimace he was currently wearing, and while he was still undeniably hot she couldn’t help the wave of commiserating pity that swept through her.

Gods (and probably Margaery at the very least) knew how far gone she’d been over him, and if he ever chanced to find all her old camp journals with their names mish-mashed together in a thousand different ways, or the endless lists she’d conjured of precisely what to name their children (three, she’d finally settled on, whittling the number down from the extremely optimistic ten her mind had started with).

Robb was still cracking himself up on the screen. “Oh, it definitely did.”

Jon put his face in his hands, and a muffled, “Gods, kill me now,” escaped. She was going to have to put an end to this, very soon, before he died of embarrassment and she didn’t get to do all the things she wanted to him. And somewhere deep inside her, shoved way down deep, sixteen year old Dany was celebrating, because it hadn’t just been her, after all. Poor thing. She was going to fuck him so very, very hard, very soon.

“Oh, man,” Robb crowed delightedly, “you were in lo-o-o-ove with Dany T. You know, maybe if you hadn’t run out like your ass was on fire when I finally arranged for you to shoot your shot during ‘Spin the Bottle’—”

“It was ‘Seven Minutes in Heaven’,” Jon interjected, pained, looking everywhere but at Dany, tips of his ears burning cherry red.

“Right, right,” Robb nodded, steepling his hands as he finally managed to control his laughter, “Whatever. Anyway, maybe if you’d stuck around you wouldn’t be wasting a perfectly good night in Pentos drinking little bottles of, what is that, whiskey?”

“Yes,” Jon sighed.

“Okay, drinking little bottles of whiskey and talking to my tired ass.” Robb considered Jon. “Hang up and go Facebook stalk her like a normal person.”

Jon was pinching the bridge of his nose, clearly trying to come up with a response, looking equal parts mortified and exhausted, and before she knew what she was doing, she was moving, crossing the room, taking a seat beside him on the couch. She threaded her arm across his shoulders and snuggled up against his side, giggling a little when he gave her a grimace.

In return, she gave him a loud, smacking kiss on the hot skin of his cheek, and turned to look at the laptop. “He doesn’t need to do that,” she told Robb smartly. She gave the man a cheeky smile, watching him grow shocked at the sight of her, his eyes growing comically large, his mouth gaping open then closing, over and over again, like a fish out of water. “And Margaery was right. I definitely had the hots for him.”

“Holy shit.” His voice was quiet, amazed, as though he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. “Holy shit!” He grew louder, watching as Dany stroked the hand not gripping Jon’s shoulder along his cheek, forcing him to turn his face towards her so she could give him another kiss, this one a lingering press of her lips to his. “Jon, that’s Dany T.!”

“I’m aware,” Jon said dryly, regaining his voice, some of his embarrassment seeming to fade at the constant pressure of her body against his.

“Holy Shit!” Robb sprung up from his chair. He pointed at them both. “Don’t move!” As Dany and Jon watched, Robb ran to the door of the room, throwing it open and yelling out at the top of his lungs. “BABE! Get up here! You gotta see this!”

An unintelligible voice called back, and Robb raised a finger as if to tell them it would be a minute, and shouted again. “It’s worth the trip! I swear!” He sprinted back to his chair, almost gleeful, and spun around in excitement, making Jon snort quietly as the pair watched his cousin. “Oh my god, this is fucking crazy. How in the hell—”

Dany flicked her finger against Jon’s earlobe, getting his attention. “Is he always this excitable?”

His breath caught as his eyes met hers again, his chest hitching as he took a long, lingering moment to let his gaze travel down to where she had situated herself directly against him, and gave her a lazy smile. “Just wait ‘til Marg shows up. Brace yourself.” He punctuated the remark by letting his arm slide fully behind her back, his hand finding a home on the curve of her hip. There was a question there, in his eyes, even as Robb babbled on in the background, and she gave him a blinding smile and wiggled her hips, kissing the tip of his nose.

“Thanks for the warning,” she whispered playfully, and shifted her focus back to the television to find that Margaery had just appeared in the doorway of Robb’s office, huffing and puffing and very, very obviously pregnant.

Her own auburn hair was caught back and away from her red face, and she glared at Robb and pointed a warning finger at him. “This better be good, Mister.”

Robb rubbed his hands together in obvious delight and stood, taking his wife by the shoulders and guiding her over to his desk. “Look at that screen, and tell me what you see, babe.”

As the duo on the couch watched, Margaery peered at them, brow wrinkling in confusion as she looked between Robb and his computer. “It’s Jon,” she muttered, quickly correcting as she realized how non-plussed she sounded. “Sorry, Jon, no offense, but…,” she trailed off as her eyes fell on Dany beside him. “Is that—” Her head tipped to the side, and it was fascinating, Dany realized, trying to watch her work through exactly who was seated next to Robb’s cousin, so close she might as well have been attached.

“Hi, Margaery,” Dany said cheerfully, giving a wave. “Long time no see!”

“AHHHHHHHHHHH!” The shriek the other woman let out was near deafening, one of Margaery’s hands lowering to clutch at the large swell of her pregnant belly while the other grabbed blindly for Robb’s shoulder, shaking it forcefully. “DANY T.! OH MY GOD!”

Robb seemed vaguely worried as he watched her at his side. “Babe, please don’t go into labor right now.”

“ROBB!” Dany giggled loudly when her old friend smacked her husband’s shoulder on the screen. “THAT IS JON AND DANY T.! TOGETHER!” Her blue eyes looked like they were going to pop out of her head. “WHAT IS HAPPENING!?”

Jon let out a full-throated laugh, his hand squeezing Dany’s hip again, and she bit her lip and let out a shaky breath as it hit her again how much she’d like to feel that without her clothes in the way. “Deep breaths, Marg.”

Margaery ignored everyone, her eyes solely trained on Dany. “Oh, my god, I can’t believe it’s you! Look how beautiful you look!”

“Thanks, Margaery,” Jon piped up, and Margaery scowled as Robb tittered beside her.

“Shut it, Jon,” Margaery said, scowling. “Oh, I just can’t believe it.” She shook her head, and as Dany watched, her eyes began to grow watery, her thin finger rising to flick away a tear. “Sorry,” Margaery said, giving a watery laugh. “My hormones are crazy right now. What on earth is going on here?”

Dany looked sideways at Jon, giving him a cheeky wink before returning her attention to Margaery and Robb. “Jon here was just trying to prove that he did, in fact, have the world’s biggest crush on me.” She pressed her lips together to fight another laugh as she gave Robb a knowing look. “With your husband’s assistance. I’ve learned a lot, I have to say. And poor Jon nearly died from embarrassment.”

Margaery’s head whipped around quickly to eye her husband. “What did you say, you rotten devil?”

Robb’s hands went up in surrender as he tried to give Margaery an innocent look. “In my defense, I didn’t even know she was in the room. And I only mentioned how much Jon, ahem,” he cleared his throat roughly, “really enjoyed Dany’s bikinis.”

Again Margaery frowned, and gave Robb a light smack on the arm. “Stop embarrassing him, look at him. He’s red as a tomato.” With a pitying look, Margaery addressed Jon. “Don’t worry, sweetie, I can promise you Dany was practically drooling every time she saw you doing, like, anything.”

Now it was Dany’s turn to hang her head, and she felt Jon shaking next to her laughing silently. “Oh, please no,” she whispered, even as Jon tugged her closer.

She finally glanced up at him when she heard the deviousness in his voice as he answered. “Tell me more, Marg, I insist.” When she wrinkled her face at him, in feigned distress, he only chuckled, shaking his head. “Fair’s fair, Dany.”

Margaery crowed with glee. “Oh, you name it, Johnny. You climbing the rock wall. You rowing around in those little kayaks. You taking a little dip in the lake. I mean, really, if you were breathing and nearby, poor Dany was just beside herself. Right, Dany?”

Dany tried to muster up her best glare at the woman on the screen, who was giving her the most obnoxiously knowing look she’d ever seen. “You really aren’t helping here, Marg.”

Margaery smiled sweetly. “Oh, I disagree. I should’ve done this a loooooong time ago.”

Jon made a sound of disagreement, to Dany’s great relief, and extricated himself from her only far enough to be able to sit up straight and reach for his laptop. “I think that’s enough for one night,” he said firmly, but Margaery let out another yelp as she realized Jon was about to disconnect the video call.

“Wait!” Jon froze, eyes on his laptop screen, the mirror image of what Dany was watching on the television. “Get your phone, Jon Stark, right now.”

Jon frowned slightly, hesitantly reaching for his cell, lips pursed. “Why?”

“Don’t ask questions,” Margaery ordered. Robb just shrugged in the background, clearly amused and enjoying the show. “Now, open up a text to me,” she instructed, as Jon begrudgingly complied.

“Robb, has your wife gotten bossier, or is it just my imagination?” Jon smirked as he glanced at the couple on the screen, but still, he obeyed Margaery’s request.

Robb just shrugged. “Just easier to go along with it, man.”

“Yes, it is,” Margaery agreed loudly, prompting another round of laughter from Dany. “Now, hand Dany the phone.”

Jon’s cell phone was placed into her hand, an empty text screen staring back at her, cursor blinking and waiting for her to type.

“Now, Daenerys Targaryen, you send me your phone number right this minute. I’m not taking ‘no’ for an answer.” When she saw Margaery staring at her expectantly, Dany grinned, and did as the other woman asked.

“Okay,” Dany answered teasingly, “but try to refrain from sending any nudes.”

Margaery let out an evil laugh. “I mean, for now okay, but once I pop this baby out all bets are off.”

Dany finished typing in her number and sent it, handing Jon back his phone, finding he was watching her with a tiny little grin that made her feel warm from head to toe. She needed this little trip down memory lane over, like, now, or Robb and Margaery were about to witness a whole lotta nudity themselves.

“Okay, done,” she said, then primly folded her hands into her lap, eyeing the couple. “Now, it was very nice to see you both again, but Jon and I are very, very busy, and we have to go.” Her tone, she knew, brooked no room for disagreement, and from the twinkle in Margaery’s eye she no doubt realized exactly what was going to happen next, though Robb seemed a bit confused.

Jon didn’t, she noticed, when she spared a look his way at her side and licked her lips. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide, and she felt the anxious arousal in her build, her skin growing itchy and hot with want as they just stared at each other silently for what must have been far too long.

“Have fun,” Margaery cackled, and then the screen went dark as the call was disconnected.

\--------------

Dany felt lost, for a split second, the sudden silence in the room growing heavy and thick as Jon’s dark eyes were on her, unwavering.

What should she say?

It was all kind of out there, now, and felt her eyes dart around nervously, wondering what her next move should be.

Jon settled that internal argument for her quickly, his large hand shooting out to slam his palm on the laptop, closing it firmly. She swallowed, hard, anticipation flaring hot inside her, coursing through her veins as her heart began to pound.

But it was his growl that did her in, the way he muttered “Come here,” as his hands next reached for her, pulling her into his lap without another thought and wrapping around her neck without preamble, nudging his mouth against hers.

She relaxed into his touch, sagging against him as she teased her tongue against the seam of his lips, glorying in the way he moaned then opened his mouth to her, allowing her to explore leisurely as his hands began a slow, measured crawl along her body. One hand cradled her head, now, fingers threading through the silver strands, holding her steady as the other began to wander down her back, prompting a heated gasp when she felt his bare palm against the small of her back, under her loose shirt.

“Touch me,” she urged, only tearing her mouth away from his long enough to pant the words against his face before she was on him again, suckling his bottom lip into her mouth, capturing it gently with her teeth before releasing it to seal her mouth against his again.

Gods, it was perfect, the way his cheeks felt as she gripped his face with her hands, the taste of his tongue as it slicked against hers, the stiffening length of him pressed firmly between her spread thighs as she straddled him so fucking satisfying she wasn’t sure she’d be able to pace herself, to savor every lingering, grasping touch. She wanted to gorge herself on him, and sort the rest out later.

Sitting up, smiling at the bewildered, addled look in his eyes as he stared up at him, breath escaping him in harsh pants, she grabbed for the hem of her loose blue top and stripped it off as quickly as she could manage.

“Oh, shit,” she heard, as her hair began to drift back down to settle around her shoulders, and she tossed her head back to shake the wayward strands from obscuring her view so she could enjoy the absolutely floored look on his face.

For a moment, she worried she was going to have to push him to touch her again, but then his hands were on her, cupping her breasts, thumbing at her nipples as he seemed stymied about where he should be looking. He tried, valiantly, to keep his eyes on hers, but then her back arched and he was focused on what was directly in front of his face, the dusky rose of her nipples contrasting enticingly with the tanned flesh of his fingers.

With another groan, a throaty noise that seemed to amplify her own hunger, his mouth was on her, teasing first one nipple then the other, flicking his tongue against each stiff peak before suckling gently and releasing. She made quick work of the elastic band holding his dark curls back, her fingers burying themselves in his hair to keep him closer, her hips thrusting and rolling against what she determined was a rather impressive erection of their own volition as he worked her over thoroughly with his mouth.

“Jon, please.” At her whimpered plea he paused, eyes as dark as night, now, his lips wet and pouty as he gazed up at her, trying, she assumed, to figure out exactly what she was asking for. She wasn’t sure, really, only certain of the fact that she was wetter than she’d ever been, desperate to feel his skin against hers, and instead of speaking again she let loose of his hair to grab for his cotton t-shirt.

“I want to feel you,” she said, in a low, heated voice, nearly purring when he made quick work of his shirt and pulled her back against him frantically, each of them releasing a loud thrum of pleasure as their chests made contact. She gripped his shoulders, rolling her hips against him more purposefully, capturing his mouth with hers again, unable to get enough of the way he kissed her, like he was going to eat her alive if he could.

She didn’t think she’d ever wanted anyone this much.

And she was certain, as he reached below the waist of her shorts to palm her bare ass, his other hand returning to her left breast to tease and torment again, his mouth abandoning hers to trail down her neck and collarbone to take large mouthfuls of flesh, that no one had ever wanted her like this.

He left wet trails along her chest, his tongue blazing a hot trail back down to her nipples, this time allowing his teeth to graze each aching point before laving them, soothing and then repeating the motion again.

Dany’s eyes slammed shut, a constant stream of high-pitched, keening cries escaping her parted lips as she let herself be consumed, her head dropping back as she let herself simply exist in the waves of pleasure he was creating inside her, the soft ends of her hair tickling against her back as she writhed atop him. She ached, nearly to the point of pain, her cunt pleading for her to put an end to the ceaseless, unyielding want as she worked herself against him, wondering if he was going to make her come before she’d even gotten her clothes off as he began to raise his hips in tandem against hers.

With a loud, low grunt, he held her still, urging her off of him to stand and licking at his lips lasciviously as he quickly tugged her shorts down, baring her completely to him, now, and she’d never been so relieved to have waxed before a trip in her life.

Jon grabbed for her arms, but instead of allowing herself to be pulled back down into his lap she tugged upwards, her eyes locked onto his with decided intent. “Get those off,” she hissed quietly, jerking her chin towards the swim trunks he still wore.

“So, we’re doing this, huh? Like, for real?” He managed to sound teasing and playful even as he grappled to get the material of his black trunks down his legs, and she laughed in spite of herself. As soon as he’d kicked the fabric free of his feet she lunged, shoving at his shoulders and forcing him back down, climbing back onto him and resting her forehead against his as her soaking folds came into contact with the firm, insistent heat of his cock, now pressed between their bodies.

Slowly, achingly, she gave a rolling twist of her hips, coating him in her slickness as his mouth fell open. “Yep,” she answered surely, kissing him hard, making sure there was no mistake as to her intentions as she slipped her tongue between his lips and coaxed his own out to play.

They continued like that for several minutes, bodies sliding against each other, her cunt dripping and wetting him as she let her clit graze against his stiffness with each twist of her hips. Gods, she was so close, and he wasn’t even inside her, and maybe she was just torturing herself at this point, or maybe there was something addictive about the way he was whimpering every time she drove herself against him. It was hard to know, because her mind was only firing on primitive levels now, every nerve ending screaming for MORE.

“Dany,” he managed, gasping for air when she released his mouth and braced her hands behind his beck. “I wanna fuck you.”

She shifted in response, rising up over him so that her kneecaps bracketed his hips, palms shifting to cup his shoulders, and she raised a brow and peered down between them. She would explore the rest of him later, learn the taste of his cock and torment him mercilessly, making him beg her to finish him off, but right now all she wanted was that thick, flushed length inside of her. He took himself in hand, lining up his tip with her weeping entrance.

And then she pushed down, wincing at the intrusion, tears forming in the corners of her eyes at how exquisite he felt spearing inside her, parting her flesh deliciously. When she was fully seated on top of him, her pelvis flush against his, she waited, dropping her forehead to his again, letting herself adjust to his size. It had been quite awhile, all things considered, and she took several breaths to gather herself, to let the sting of the way he stretched her abate.

He was staring up at her in wonder, open-mouthed, as if he couldn’t quite believe the way she felt around him, as if he couldn’t quite believe it was her, that they were doing this, together, and she understood exactly how he felt. It was surreal, more like a dream than reality, the lustful yearnings of her youth now fully realized in the firm flesh and muscles beneath her, his cock twitching inside her when she tightened around him purposefully.

“Ah, fuck, Dany.” He bucked against her, lids slamming shut, his head falling back against the back of the couch cushions as she took mercy on him and started to move. Sweat was dewing his skin, despite the chilled air of the room, and she felt it gather at her spine and between her breasts as she started to ride him, up and down, fluidly, in well-practiced motions.

She knew perfectly well how to do this, at least, but this was different, this was Jon she was thrusting against, and Jon who now held her hips in a hard, vice-like grip, Jon who was mumbling incoherently and groaning, Jon’s cock hard inside her, Jon’s mouth she dipped her head to take again.

It was too much, the whole of it, and she felt desire pooling and coiling inside her, drawing tight, her stomach tightening and muscles beginning to twitch as she neared her peak.

Then his dark eyes opened wide, and he shifted beneath her, and she thought he must’ve flattened his feet on the floor, because suddenly he was thrusting up, hard, meeting each roll of her hips, deeper inside her with each jerking motion. She couldn’t look away from those inky depths even if she wanted, held tight in the cage of his heated stare, and he didn’t break his gaze, even as he leaned forward to take a stiff, rosy peak back in his mouth, this time nursing the tip roughly, moaning against her saliva-slicked flesh as he felt her walls cinching tighter around him.

The twin sensations of the feel of him fucking her, the reality that it was him, the way the head of his cock brushed against something inside her that made her shiver with each stroke, coupled with the way he was watching her so closely, had her grasping and clawing at him wildly, her eyes slamming shut as she was overwhelmed with it, her motions frantic and frenzied now, the air around them full of the wet sounds of their coupling and their harsh, ragged breath.

“Dany,” he murmured, grunting with effort as he fucked her harder still, as best he could seated beneath her, clearly divining that she was almost there, “look at me.”

It was an effort to force her lids to part, and she bit at her bottom lip so hard she worried she’d break the tender skin, until he reached a hand up to cup her face, the pad of his thumb sweeping across the swollen flesh of her bottom lip before slipping into the wet cavern of her mouth. She bit gently at the digit instead, moaning around the intrusion as she rode him with abandon, her orgasm so close she was starting to see stars.

Then he dropped his hand, and circled his wet thumb around her clit, and by the third circuit he had her exactly where he must have wanted her, and she stopped fighting to hold on. She broke apart, falling forward even as her hips still bucked and rose, her cunt clenching and releasing him in waves of pleasure as she shuddered against his chest, her hips grinding down onto him as she milked the pleasure for all she could.

He was still hard as a rock inside her, even as she came down from her high, aftershocks rippling through her and making him moan her name as she rested for a moment against his chest. “Dany,” he said, his breath still coming fast and rough, “do you have condoms?”

She pushed up, one hand sweeping sweat-dampened hair back from her face, as she studied him. “No,” she answered, and then pointed at the opposite arm, the one she was using to hold herself upright. “I have one of those implant-thingys in my arm.” She huffed out a quiet laugh, even as she gave another slow, sinuous twist of her hips, feeling him rise to meet her again. “I didn’t plan on having any sex this trip, to be honest.”

His large hands settled on the curve of each hip again, and he gave a hard thrust up, stealing her breath as he grinned, though she could feel the tension in his body as she began to fuck him again, picking up rhythm, eager to see him lose himself beneath her. “Me either,” he managed, and together they increased their pace, every tendon in his neck standing out as she knew he was getting close to his own release, something she now desperately wanted to witness.

She let her hands drop to his shoulders again, and gave him what he wanted, riding him hard and fast, as his head fell back once more to twist restlessly against the top of the couch cushions. She felt powerful, then, watching as desire took him over completely, as his brow furrowed and his grip tightened, each finger digging into her curves as he brought her down on his cock more forcefully.

“Look at me,” she hissed, echoing his earlier words, and when his eyes opened again she made sure to hide nothing from him, not in that second, not when they were joined so completely. She showed him everything, all the yearning she’d ever had for him, the way she wanted him so desperately, the way she always had, kissing him fervently until finally, blissfully, she felt him spill inside her, hot pulses of his release flooding her as he jerked and shuddered and groaned her name over and over, loud enough that she thought they might be heard in the next cabana over.

She let herself relax again, her face pressed into the damp skin of his neck, her tongue escaping to taste the salt of his skin as his breathing slowed and he seemed to sink into the cushions as his body sagged, sated as well.

His arms were around her before she could dare any doubt or second thoughts, holding her tight against him as his face burrowed into the hair that was stuck to her chest and throat, and she felt him drop light kisses against the silver as she smiled softly at the top against his the column of his throat.

“That was awesome,” he whispered reverently, and maybe it was the way he said it, so full of awe, almost innocent, that tickled her the way it did, but she started laughing, quietly, feeling it grow steadily louder as each second ticked by.

“Gods, that’s not a good sign,” he muttered against her, and she lost herself completely, trying to push up so she could see him only to collapse in full-on, heaving laughter. “I’m pretty sure laughter directly after fucking means I’ve done something wrong.”

“No,” she eeked out, forcing herself up, squeezing his narrow hips with her knees as she swiped under her eye, feeling happier than she could ever remember. “No, no, it was awesome, totally, completely awesome, it’s just,” she wheezed, barely keeping another laugh from escaping, “the way you said it, it was like, I don’t know, a kid at Christmas?”

He was trying to scowl at her, she could tell, but he looked so thoroughly satisfied that he didn’t quite manage to pull it off. “Okay,” he said, skeptically, tightening his arms and craning his neck up to kiss her, a series of small pecks and nips that had her grinning, “Yeah, that’s pretty close, actually.”

Jon was softening inside her, and with a small adjustment of her hips above him, he slipped free from her with a low, quiet grunt. She could feel his seed beginning to drip from her, creating a bit of a mess on her thighs and his pelvis, something she normally would’ve been in a hurry to correct, in other circumstances.

But this was different. This was Jon, and there was something sinfully delicious about the feel of it, having been claimed by him. She pressed her breasts against his chest again, enjoying the play of muscle against her skin as he shifted against below her, trying to move them both more fully into the seat. “So,” she whispered, peppering kisses against his face, along his forehead and the bristled dark hair along his jaw, the tip of his nose, then each of his eyelids in turn, “Your bed or mine?” She waggled her eyebrows at him meaningfully, and let out surprised yelp when he stood, hoisting her up with him, helping her wrap her legs around his waist as he made his way towards his own room.

“Mine tonight, yours tomorrow. Especially if things get rowdy.”

He squeezed her ass meaningfully, his own brows raising when she gave him a surprised look.

“Dany,” he rumbled, her name a soothing vibration of his voice from deep in his chest, tickling her skin. His eyes never left hers, as he walked them into his room and kicked the door shut behind him. “I’m not done with you. Not even close.” 

\------------

Morning came sooner than she would have liked, bringing with it an easy, salacious exhaustion that had her lips curving up even before her eyes blinked open blearily.

A heavy arm was draped around her midsection, a hot breath puffing out in time against her neck accompanied by a soft snore, a warm, firm body curled around her as consciousness slowly crept over her.

She stretched lazily, her toes curling against Jon Stark’s shins as she groaned lightly, her arm snaking behind her to curl into his hair.

“Good morning,” came a rough whisper, and she knew she was beaming, knew how silly she must look, hair a tangled mess, eye makeup no doubt hopelessly smudged, grinning like an idiot, but it couldn’t be helped.

She’d spent the night fucking Jon Stark. Who wouldn’t be wearing the world’s silliest grin?

She felt him, hard and prodding against the curve of her ass, and her eyes rolled back a little at the prospect of having him again.

Gods, he had stamina.

Dany had enjoyed him twice more in the hours since she’d first had him, once like a pair of animals in heat, maybe an hour after that first time, his hand fisted in her hair as she’d gotten on her hands and knees for him on his neatly-made bed, mucking up herself and the covers in the process in all the best ways.

She remembered the other time as well, her leg draped over the top of his hip as he’d thrust into in slow, measured thrusts, his mouth and teeth worrying the back of her neck and her shoulders as he’d fucked her for what seemed like hours.

Jon Stark was many things, she was coming to realize, and being thoroughly amazing at fucking her was at the top of that ever-growing list.

She felt him kiss against her neck, his hand sweeping the curtain of her hair away from her skin as he moved his lips along her hairline. “Good morning, Dany T.”

Dany snickered, then twisted in his arms, until they were on their sides, face to face. “You know,” she said slowly, sliding her calf against his beneath the covers and running her hand along his jaw, “I’m fairly certain we’re at a point where you can actually just call me Dany. Or Daenerys.” She nudged her toes against his and grinned. "Still feeling embarrassed?" 

Jon chuckled and nodded sagely. “You’re probably right. Old habits die hard, I guess.” He gave her a slow, contemplative look, something so piercing about it that she felt like she was turning as red now as he had the night before. "And no," he finally said, with a smile so happy she wasn't sure she'd ever seen anything more beautiful, not in her whole life. "No, the embarrassment was definitely worth it."

She gave him a wicked smile, eyes ticking over his shoulder to see it was still early enough to catch breakfast at the buffet spread. “Maybe you ought to pick up some new habits.” She let a finger trail down his chin, to trace the shape of one pectoral muscle, feeling his heart pounding beneath her touch.

“Like what?” He was clearly interested in her line of thinking, his hand creeping beneath the covers to slide against each of her ribs, before climbing to very softly cover her breast with his hand.

“Fucking me in the shower?” She framed it as a question, but it was definitely a command, and by his eye-crinkling smile she knew what her answer was.

Jon stripped the covers off them both in a flash, and grabbed at her wrist, helping her up from the bed and wrapping his arm around her shoulder the minute she was upright. “Dany,” he intoned, dropping a loud kiss onto her cheek, guiding her to his bathroom and the large, glass stalled shower that waited inside, “You are a fucking genius.”


	4. Sales Pitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our final chapter gives us a Jon POV, and takes us from Pentos to King's Landing as Jon and Dany try to figure out exactly what they are, now, and what they want.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for reading. I have a little epilogue in mind for this at some point in the future, but we'll get there when we get there. I hope you enjoy this last little chapter starring our boy Jon, and that you've enjoyed the story over all. It's just a silly little thing, as my shit usually is. Everyone stay safe and sane!
> 
> I'm heading back into the fic mines for updates to the following fics:
> 
> -Another chapter of Mutation  
> -Story Two of Remember the Time  
> -Finally, finally finishing the last chapter of Disenchantment  
> -A companion fic to A Thin Line, starring AssholeJon and AssholeDany
> 
> So, hopefully you'll join me for those crazy-train rides when they're up.
> 
> As always, comment if you feel like it, kudo if you enjoyed. See you next time, kiddos.

  
For a very long time, perhaps as long as he had become aware of life’s harsh realities, Jon had considered himself a reasonable, practical sort of person. Some, especially Robb, might have gone so far as to classify him as the biggest fucking pessimist on the face of the earth, convinced that anything that could go wrong, would go wrong, and it was just best for all involved to expect awful things to happen.

That way, Jon had always reasoned, it was very hard to be disappointed.

It was because of this, he reckoned, that he was at least 50% certain that he was dead.

It would make sense.

The last few days had been an endless string of what might’ve been the best luck he’d ever had. It was too great, too unbelievable, to be true, a fact tempered only by temporary spells of sweeping embarrassment that seemed to fade in the face of her:

Dany T.

Daenerys Fucking Targaryen, live and in the flesh, and very extremely naked.

What were the odds? They had to be astronomical, really. He probably ought to go buy a few lottery tickets, assuming that he hadn’t actually died on the plane ride to Pentos and wasn’t currently in some sort of oddly specific afterlife.

It was reasonable to think he might be.

He was currently on his knees in the fucking enormous shower the resort offered in these cabanas, one thigh belonging to the one and only silver goddess herself, Daenerys Targaryen, slung over his shoulder. Her other leg was the only thing keeping her upright, besides his hands holding tight to her hips, pinning her to the tile wall, and he didn’t know how much longer that poor limb was going to be able to manage.

Her leg quivered against his cheek as she yelped out his name, not the first time since he’d convinced her to tell their afternoon sessions to go fuck themselves in favor of coming back to their rooms and ripping each other’s clothes off.

Which they had. She was definitely going to owe him a new shirt, the one he’d be wearing heaped somewhere out in the living area, buttons scattered on the floor.

His mouth was sealed against her cunt, his tongue flicking against her clit then licking, finding what she liked best, intent on making her come until she couldn’t take it anymore, until she begged him to stop. Her nails were pricking against his scalp, holding his face to her as he forced a series of throaty moans from her, her body tensing under his hands as she got close.

“Oh, Gods, Jon, fuck!” She was tossing her head against the wall, and he tightened his hold on her, not wanting her to slip to the pebbled floor that was currently making his knees ache as much as his cock before she came on his tongue. He was a gentleman, after all.

And Dany had a filthy mouth, cursing loudly as she broke apart, her hips rolling wildly as she spasmed against him, nails digging in even more sharply.

He was pretty sure it was the hottest thing he’d ever heard in his life.

So, yeah, there was a good chance none of this was real and his lifeless body was floating somewhere in the Narrow Sea, he thought, as he gentled his motions, letting her calm and tasting the slick sweet tang of her as she settled, her muscles still twitching every so often as she recovered from the pleasure he’d brought her.

Number three, he tallied. That was a good number, and worth every second of abuse to his kneecaps endured and the growing complaints his dick was sending his way as he let his eyes travel up the smooth, flat skin of her abdomen, past the full curves of her breasts, to where her gaze was locked on him, her lips still parted as she panted.

He turned his head, pressing a kiss to the soft skin of her inner thigh before he lowered the leg he still gripped back to the floor.

There was absolutely nothing, in the entire world, better than the way she was looking at him this very moment, like she wanted to devour him whole, on the spot.

“Stand up,” she commanded firmly, and his eyes narrowed playfully as she gestured with her hands. Hot water still sprayed mercilessly on his back, shielding her from the onslaught as he complied willingly enough, enjoying the way her eyes finally strayed to roam his body.

When she dropped to her knees, her hand wrapping around his cock purposefully, he shuddered, groaning her name, his hand creeping forward to wrap in her wet, silver hair. “Oh, shit,” he whispered, a sharp heat coursing through him and settling right where she was touching him as she gave him a wicked grin.

“You had to have imagined this, Jon.” Her eyes were wide, almost innocent, as she spoke. Then her lips parted and her tongue darted out, tracing along the tip of his cock, drawing a whimper from him.

“Uh-huh,” was all he could manage, because she was absolutely correct. Teenage Jon had pictured this very scenario more times that he was proud of, his imagination doing an admittedly shit job of really capturing how fucking good it would feel, her wet hand sliding slowly up his length, her breath teasing against his cock, her pink tongue torturing him as she lapped at his head.

She hummed, the vibration of it seeming to travel to his balls, making him throb in her hand. “Me too,” she said, her purple eyes pinning him as she sealed her lips around him and took him into the sweet bliss of her hot mouth in a long, slow slide.

“Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He wasn’t capable of much more than that, because he was sure he was dead, now, and this was heaven, standing in a shower with her as she tried her level best to swallow his cock.

Jon’s hand tightened in her hair, and it was only a deep dig into what remained of his willpower not to pull her in closer and thrust into her mouth. He had learned, over the years, that it was a rather rude thing to do when it wasn’t expected, and it seemed to him that the wise course of action would be to just enjoy whatever she wanted to do to him. He could always ask about it later.

Assuming he wasn’t, in fact, dead.

50/50, his mind whispered, as she rolled her eyes back up to his, rooting him to the spot as she brought her lips flush with her hand, creating a seal and moving her hand in tandem with her mouth as she started to work him with purpose. It was almost too much, and his free hand floundered for a moment before finding the cold tile wall and planting itself there, bracing him for the onslaught of sensation.

He gritted his teeth, willing himself not to come too soon, to let himself enjoy the magic of what she was doing to him, but when she brought her hand up to tease and cup his balls he knew it was a lost cause.

The loud groan of her name seemed to echo all around him, embarrassingly loud, but when she gave a pleased moan in response, once that seemed to vibrate up the entire length of his cock, he was done for. He came, hard, spurting into her mouth in a manner that might have him worried, later, about the civility of it. He wasn’t quite sure of the etiquette in these situations anymore, but the way she smiled around his length as his release flooded into her welcome mouth was assurance enough that it was precisely what she’d wanted.

“Fuck’s sake,” he panted, as she leaned back, smug, and swiped a thumb at the corner of her mouth. When she stuck it between her lips, her eyes locked with his, his own snapped shut, because it was like no matter what she did it was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen, and he was truly starting to wonder how he was going to actually work with her without wanting to clear off the desk he hadn’t even seen yet and toss her onto it.

Or her desk, he wasn’t all that picky about the surroundings.

So long as she was there, he didn’t think he really cared all that much about anything else.

She grinned at him wickedly and handed him the tiny little bottle of soap the resort had provided. “We should probably actually shower, shouldn’t we?”

He let out a breathless laugh, still panting slightly from, and he didn’t think he was really going out on a limb here, the best blowjob he’d ever received, and took the bottle, uncapping it and pouring out a paltry little handful for himself before handing it to her. “I mean, isn’t that why we came in here?” He lathered himself up, grateful that recently coming preventing him from another time-consuming round of fucking her would ensure.

Watching Dany soap up her tits right in front of him ought to be illegal, in any case, because the sight of it was absolutely now burned into his brain. With any luck, he’d see this when he closed his eyes, now.

\-----------

They were curled up on her bed, together, wrapped in resort robes and dozing on and off, when his phone dinged on the bedside table.

Jon grumbled, fumbling blindly for it with his right hand since his left arm was currently lodged beneath the head of the lovely Dany T., and he’d rather cut it off than rouse her. But by the time he’d grabbed at the device, she was giving him a sleepy, slow blink and an easy smile.

“What’s up?” She rubbed at her eyes and yawned as he slid out from under her completely, and he frowned as he unlocked his phone and checked his messages.

He had fifteen, FIFTEEN fucking messages. And clicking into them, he scoffed, realizing they were all from Robb.

_Robb: JON_

_Robb: JON FUCKING STARK_

_Robb: ANSWER ME SHITHEAD_

_Robb: ARE YOU ALIVE?_

_Robb: DID YOU HAVE A HEART ATTACK DOING DANY T?_

_Robb: No but seriously dude, sorry about last night_

_Robb: I wouldn’t have said that shit about your lake boners if I’d known she was there_

_Robb: Major party foul_

_Robb: Why aren’t you answering?_

_Robb: I NEED ANSWERS_

_Robb: I made a bet with Margaery_

_Robb: I’m begging you_

_Robb: Please tell me if you got in those shorts, my dude_

_Robb: Margaery wagered impending diaper duty for, like, a month that you did_

_Robb: I very strongly suspect I cock-blocked you by being an unintentional asshole, and again, my apologies. Very not cool. I know that. But I feel like you are punishing me here. I need to know: did you or did you not bone the silver goddess Daenerys Targaryen? And if you tell Marg I call her that I’ll punch you in your dirty mouth the next time I see you._

Jon started laughing, silently at first, his shoulders shaking, but soon it was a full-on, seal-barking, eyes-tearing laugh that seemed to catch Dany entirely off-guard.

She sat up, clearly concerned and obviously puzzled, and when he tried to explain he found he couldn’t. Every time he tried he just started cracking up again, harder than before, so he handed her his phone, wheezing out “Read this,” as he thrust the cell into her hand.

His stomach started to really hurt by the time she was done, her eyes growing wider and wider as she skimmed each line, and she was giggling uncontrollably by the end, her hand over her mouth to smother the sound.

“Oh my god,” she managed, then fell back onto the bed, still clutching his phone, unable to control her laughter.

Finally, finally, he managed to calm down, and he wiped under his eyes as he shook his head. “He means well, but he’s such a douche sometimes.” That set Dany off again, and he watched her give herself over to such absolute fucking silliness for a moment before he forced himself to concentrate.

He began typing, eyes on the screen when Dany piped up. “What are you going to tell him?”

He sent the message, then waved her closer, turning the phone so she could see what he’d said.

_Jon: It’s none of your fucking business. But also, enjoy diaper duty, asshole._

She climbed into his lap, then, and wrapped her arms around his neck, and he could do little else but let the phone drop, forgotten, to the bed beside him as she kissed him soundly.

“Good answer,” she said, then claimed his lips again, the hot, wet slide of her tongue stroking against his almost frighteningly addictive.

From the other side of the bed, Dany’s phone began to chime, several times, in rapid succession, and Jon smiled wryly when she frowned at him in confusion.

“That’ll be Marg, I’m sure,” he said dryly.

She sighed airily, and rubbed her nose against his. “I’ll check it later,” she said against his lips, and not for the first time since last night had taken a fucking AWESOME turn, he wished he could just stop time completely, just be like this, with her, forever.

\-----------

They shared a cab to the airport, fate feeling it necessary to book them on the same flight back to King’s Landing, and Jon found himself grateful for a little more time with her, before they had to go back to the real world and things got weird.

They normally did, and he didn’t see any reason to think this would be any different.

It would just be way, way fucking worse.

The plane was taxiing down the runway, and then she was shoving her hand into his, grabbing on for dear life, and he squeezed back, setting aside his book and looking to where her head was resting against his shoulder.

“Are you scared of flying?”

She shook her head, then closed her eyes tightly, her lips a tense, thin line as she pressed them together. “I love flying,” she eeked out, “I just hate taking off.” He smiled, fondly, wondering how someone could be so fucking cute and terrified at the same time. Pressing his lips to her temple, he pressed more closely against her.

“You wanna fool around?” He made sure he said it so quietly that it would be impossible for anyone but her to hear him, and he wasn’t even sure he was serious, but the question did the job: She whipped her head around, mildly scandalized, her eyes wide and shocked.

“Really?”

Jon fought a laugh, his lips twitching as he reclined his seat a bit as the plane leveled out. Then he shrugged, feigning nonchalance and reached for his book. “Just an idea. I mean, I’m game, but,” he paused, giving her a challenging look, “maybe you’re chicken, Dany T.”

She said nothing, just glared at him for a moment before turning her attention to the display in the headrest in front of her. He was ready to write the whole thing off, not sure if he was disappointed or relieved. He wasn’t exactly an exhibitionist, at least not before now, but with Dany? Who could say?

Then he heard her, calling out to the stewardess who was making her way down the aisle, asking for a blanket, and then taking it with effusive thanks.

The look she gave him, when she slowly twisted around to look at him, made his cock spring to life. Flying wasn’t exactly his favorite thing, but if she was thinking what he THOUGHT she was thinking, it was about to get a million times better.

“Let’s do this,” she whispered, and unwrapped the blanket, starting to spread it over both their laps.

“Awesome,” he whispered back, and raised the armrest that separated them.

\----------

King’s Landing, Jon had decided, was kind of shit.

Sure, there were plenty of things to do, and his new apartment was monumentally better than the crappy little studio he’d had in the North, but he found he wasn’t really a fan of the hordes of people and the close quarters and the way he couldn’t really see the stars at night, anymore.

The real fucking kicker, though, the part that had him moping around his apartment, his dog Ghost watching him, perplexed by his endless brooding, was the way things were going with Dany.

They weren’t going BAD, that wasn’t it. They were fine. But when they’d shown up for their first day at work, they’d each agreed they needed to be professional. Act like grown-ups. NOT try to find deserted areas in the building Tyrion owned to corner then fuck each other.

And it really, really, really fucking sucked. 

They talked, every night, for hours, but they were doing this (apparently adult) thing where they tried to date each other formally. He liked it, liked going to movies and dinner with her, thought she’d never been more beautiful than she was when he would kiss her goodnight and she would smile up at him, cheeks flushed, oddly shy for a woman who’d done numerous naked things with him in the recent past.

They were taking their time, getting to know each other, and it was great. Really, it was.

But as each day passed he was starting to wonder why they couldn’t do all those things AND have the occasional sleepover. Was she waiting for him to make the first move? Was there, like, some time limit that he just didn’t know about?

Ghost whined and dropped his head in Jon’s lap, staring up at him with a pitiful expression until Jon scratched behind his ears.

“What do you think, boy?” The dog said nothing, just blinked. “Should I just take a chance? I mean, here’s the deal. I like her. She likes me. The sex,” he chuckled, giving the dog a knowing look, “fucking great.” He let out a heavy sigh and relaxed against the couch cushion. “Maybe I just need to go for it, you know? Just tell her, ‘Hey, Dany, I want to hear all your depressing stories, mixed in with MY depressing stories, then peel your clothes off you in a committed kind of way’, right?”

Ghost let out a chuff, and Jon wasn’t sure if the dog was trying to commiserate or just judging him.

“Look, I mean, we’ll go do stuff, too. I’m not saying I just want to fuck her. I mean, like, I think she’s the one, you know? When I walk into a room and she’s there I’m just relieved, like I’ve been waiting all day just to exist with her.” He stared at Ghost, hard. “Am I making sense?”

Ghost stared back, then whined again, and buried his head between Jon’s back and the sofa cushion.

“You know what?” Jon stood up, something like determination blooming in his chest. “I’ll take that as a yes. I’m just gonna do it.” He nodded, decisively, then walked over to the bar that separated the kitchen from the living area, where his laptop sat. “I’m gonna see if she wants to go ‘official’.”

He booted up his laptop and navigated his way to the company website, logging in and accessing the HR section, pulling up the section that housed ‘Employee Forms’. He found what he was looking for, and the whir of the printer on the kitchen counter filled him with a nervous, stomach-twisting excitement.

He grabbed the print-out, his eyes reading over the text, and glanced up when he felt as though he was being watched.

Ghost had moved down to the finished wood floor, and was sitting patiently before him, tail thumping as Jon’s eyes met his.

“What’s the worst she could say? No?”

Ghost groaned in response, and Jon ignored him, choosing also not to pay any attention to the way his heart was thudding in his chest, his palm beginning to sweat against the paper he held. It would be fine. Totally, 100% fine.

And if it wasn’t, well, he’d just change his name and start a new life as a monk somewhere. Yeah, that was the ticket. That was a viable Plan B.

\----------

The very next Friday, he strode down to Dany’s office, one hallway over from his, his laptop tucked beneath his arm, his stomach reminding him that he needed to make sure he knew the exact location of her trash can, because really, he couldn’t puke on her shoes again, but there was a situation brewing.

He stopped outside her door, checking his watch and confirming it was past 5:00. That was the loose, unspoken rule they’d come to, one of many. Any ‘non-professional’ interaction should occur after business hours, because they were professional adults, and not horny teenagers.

He could mostly agree with that. Something about being around her had turned him into the hormonal monster he’d been at sixteen, which had been pretty cool on Pentos, but now was just a big fucking drag because his hand was a completely shit stand-in for Dany herself.

Jon had a manila folder, containing exactly one sheet of paper in it, and he kept it clutched in his right hand as he rapped his knuckles against her door, waiting for her to call out ‘Come in!’ before he wrestled with the knob, chancing a look around the deserted hall before he shouldered his way inside.

And then she was there, right in front of him, sitting at her desk and grinning broadly when she saw it was him, her hand raising to smooth back a stray, silver strand from her face, her eyes crinkling in that way that made him want to kiss her until she passed out.

“Hey,” she said, standing, her eyes straying to the laptop and folder he carried and then narrowing pensively. “What’s all this?”

Jon’s cheeks puffed out as he exhaled in a slow, steady stream. “Can you do me a favor and sit back down? I need to talk to you about something.”

She frowned slightly, confused, maybe a bit worried, but did ask he asked, and to his credit he only glanced down at her chest once, just a peek, because the way she was now sitting made the buttons across her tits strain a little bit. As he tended to be, in the last few weeks back, he was distracted, because now he knew, in a way his teenage self could only have wished for, exactly what she looked like without that button-down on, and the truth was he was dying to make that scenario happen again.

But he needed to focus.

He moved to sit in one of the chairs placed in front of her desk, giving himself one more silent pep talk before he met her eyes, giving her a nervous smile. Placing the folder on the desk, Jon popped open his laptop and typed in his password. With a shaky breath, he shot her another tentative grin, then spun the computer around, so she could see the screen.

He was a marketing man, after all, and in his mind this was the biggest sales pitch of his life.

She yelped out a laugh as she read the title slide of his Power Point, and it occurred to him this might be the dumbest thing he'd ever done. “Why we should be ‘officially’ dating: A Presentation by Jon Stark.” Her brows raised as she glanced up. “Okay, I’m interested. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Jon reached around the display, clicking a button. “Okay, so for starters, as you can see by the bullet points here,” he gestured, “Number One: We’ve known each other since we were twelve. Some might say we have a long and storied history together.”

Dany nodded, fighting a smile and tapping a finger against her chin. “A solid point, some might say that.”

“Number two,” he pointed to the screen. “We are both clearly very awesome people, and only occasionally bummers. Most importantly, we don’t mind when the other person is being a huge drag.”

She crossed her arms across her chest, biting her bottom lip, the bright red of her shirt making her skin glow. “Agreed.”

He felt like this was going great so far, so he pushed on. “Number Three: I think we can both agree, the sex is pretty amazing.”

Dany leaned back further, her desk chair squeaking, as she peered at him. “If anything, I feel like that’s an understatement.”

His hand was shaking, just a little, as he prepared to click and change it to the next slide. This wasn’t a long show, and the next one was the last one, but also the most important one, the ‘really putting himself out there’ one, though he was fairly sure she would be on board. He hoped, anyway.

He nodded in acknowledgement. “I always think it’s best to under promise and over deliver. Keep expectations nice and low.”

She finally had to laugh out loud again, and rolled her eyes. “You’ve really lost it, Jon. I’m already convinced, anyway.”

Jon just pursed his lips, and raised a finger up. “Hang on, one more slide.” He wobbled his head from side to side, suddenly wanting to stall for time. “The big one, really. Prepare yourself.”

Dany cleared her throat and straightened in her seat, licking her lips quickly and trying to adopt her most serious expression. “Carry on,” she said regally, with a wave of her hand.

He took a deep, steadying breath, and convinced himself that if she really didn’t want what he did that it wouldn’t take long for him and Ghost to adapt to the hobo life. He wondered if hitching a ride on train cars was as hard as it looked in movies, and prayed, desperately, that he wouldn’t have to find out.

He tapped, one more time, and the screen changed. As she read, not waiting for him to speak, he was flush with relief as her eyes began to grow wet and her lips parted.

“Oh,” she whispered, and gave him a watery smile.

“As you can see,” he said, ignoring the tremor in his voice, “Number Four: I have been in love with you since I was twelve, and I really don’t think this feeling is going to go away, and I hope it’s the same for you, and it really sucks not waking up with you, so I think we should start doing that. In an official, company-sanctioned capacity, I mean.”

He opened the folder and pulled out the HR form, his signature already on it, and slid it to her. 

“No pressure, though,” he threw in as an afterthought, watching with bated breath as she tore her eyes away from him and looked down to the form.

A little sob escaped her, and he had a brief moment of panic, but then she was sliding back and rummaging in her desk drawer for a pen, signing her name with a flourish, as fast as she could. Then she tossed the pen haphazardly on her desk, slid the paper back to him, and closed his laptop cover with a click.

“Jon,” she said, in a sultry voice that told him exactly what was coming, as she rose and smoothed her hands down her skirt, her hips swaying as she rounded the desk. She looked him up and down, pupils fat and dark as her gaze caught on his lips. “Go lock the door.”

Jon jogged to throw the lock, not caring how eager he looked, and by the time he spun back to face her she was already reaching behind her back for the zip of her skirt. He sauntered back over with a markedly cocky smile, replacing her hands with his own and freeing her of the tight black fabric, his grin growing when the fabric pooled on the floor at her feet.

But when she made to kick her shoes off he shook his head. “Leave them on,” he muttered, winking when she gave him a wanton, wicked little quirk of her lips, watching her fingers work the buttons of her top as he wrestled his belt free.

And as he picked her up, feeling the heels of her shoes dig into his lower back when her legs wrapped around his waist, and sat her down on top of her desk, he couldn’t help but think that in a life so full of absolute shit, in which nothing ever seemed to go his way, things were finally, wonderfully, looking up.

Then the lovely Dany T, the girl of his dreams, the star of his filthiest teenage fantasies, the woman he was helplessly in love with, reached between them and stroked his cock, and he stopped thinking altogether.

“I love you, too,” she whispered, her breath hot and humid against the skin of his neck, and he wondered how long he would be able to wait before he asked her to marry him. **  
**

Probably not long.


End file.
